The Artist

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The Artist

I used perfection as a tool,
My fingers’ caressed created it all,
From crushed  of marble, silver, and gold,
‘To a beauty, I may never see,
Or a beauty I can never keep,
As the essence fade away.

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To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

DNTV1186’s Poems (3)

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The Artist 0
Statue 0
Stand Up 1