The Peacock dances.

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There’s a repetitive stage,
a repeating of days
when vines interweave
through the speckled
edges of flirtations,
behind no closed doors
peacock feathers
splay upon her shore
through the speckled
flecks of essence
life’s laborious lessons,
I watch the clock
tick tock, tick tock
as zones align a duo
of wakefulness sleeping
through the empty
page…a constellation
of energy mapping
the designed reflection
of the peacocks
beautiful… selection.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image found on pinterest