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I wonder and move about the room
Such so as if I am dancing with the art piece
There is much left unsaid yet this worth more than simple words can follow
I grip the paintbrush
Slow paintly the canvas in front of me
In this moment is pure joy
The sun grazes the flower pots from the window along with the mirror
It is noon here
Tickling and Tackling the paintbrush
Up and down Up and down
Side to Side
It is the music we play in art that keeps the stomping of the the feet
And the creativeness in the swoosh in my hands
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