It dance it laughs a pink lackey
it walks like the dream of one unfinished through the hall
it clatters its feet, and the hand beats
time in the hall
it becomes springhousemadhouse, tomorrow all will sit on the everyday
chair
Now is music, everything wags its tail,
here are wind-turned soles
(Gunnar Bjorling-other)
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Based on Topics: Time Poems, Dreams Poems, Music PoemsBased on Keywords: clatters, lackey