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Crisp silver moonset over vaulting skies,
In studio the draped model lay,
With stiff artist's brush and dark Spanish eyes,
His disjointed gold sun welcomes the day.
Rose cheeked, she in caricatures delights,
And watches, curious, his every stroke,
That turn the world into scriptures of lights,
In his flames she'd vow in drowning to soak.
But daytime brings dimness, finds model clad,
The roar of life overshadows his fire,
Their dalliance's end brings feelings so sad,
She alone, he caught in wifely desire.
Her payment, in dreams, like dull knives do grate,
On memories of artist's hands and bald pate.

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