Night DancersA Poem by Moonflower
The smell of charred wood and tobacco, fill the air, flames flicker across our faces, I stare at an elder who sits opposite me, beating steadily at his ancient drum, It is made of Buffalo hide and bones, carved perfectly, small depictions painted on the side, I watch them, moving under the beat, dancing Beads hanging from his long gray hair, click against his shirt, he whispers the words.
I sit in my designated spot, fumbling with my fingers, The Moon shining full and bright I watch the Dancers, moving to the Elder's song, Hair and feathers gleaming, their skin glistens, in exertion, Dark eyes and smooth hair, All painted and Adorned
© 2010 MoonflowerAuthor's Note
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Added on September 1, 2010Last Updated on September 18, 2010 AuthorMoonflowerLouisville, KYAboutHello :) My name is Desiree. What brings me to this website is my love for poetry and storytelling. At this time I consider myself more of a poet, than a writer or author. I do not have the pa.. more..Writing
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