The Waltz Of The Harlequin

Watch the waltz of the harlequin how effortless disjointed spin all of a sudden is mitigated by a sly grinning obliterated
notice that the lazy mazed spinning all of its vogue allure was only rogue beginning choir singing before an overture
obscure are painted the crimson crescents of his brows under which with open purpure-textured eyes he bows and to prancing now does start
One foot dancing apart the other silversatin-clad, boots with subtle petite pounding now the pace ahead
Leaps all a sudden gazelle-like but with no grace his grounding foot does strike
Not his purple painted smile which was brushed on to beguile
Not his vulgar feathered dress which he folded to impress
All this masquerading cannot hide his inner fading
None of this age-impostering mimikry can cover up his fallacy
This polished ground he slides around this stage is just like the constant cackles shackles to his spirits cage
the barrel of his disgrace
The final drop has reached
He rips of his apparell
All etiquette is breached
He cannot help but cry
And with each crystal tear
Is washed away his lie
The painting from his eye
His entire souls veneer
And all vice in him away is fully torn
A memory of a happy day she reblossoms is reborn
He diligently clasps his palm together while reaching into open space
Through naked air pulls back her ever closely to his face for but a moments passionate gaze merely a glance and then foot on foot step on step and in a tight embrace they dance
Into a splendid pirouette while spinning slowly arm in arm evoking a colour ground rosy red profound and calm which overpaints his knavish charm
And with the mingling of these lacrimatic shades that all nature's colours seems to hold where tears of joy and grief together scold into an essence thence they mold and into a scent enfold of naked truth

by Julius Alexandrov

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