Is it your scent that makes me dream
(of thunders and low floating feathers)
or your slender, weightless frame?
Is it when you deftly part air–
(whistling, like picking flowers)
Or when you mess with everyone’s hair?
How can something so graceful,
Be something so powerful?
I steady myself with these thoughts
Chasing my breath,
While those who would defeat us
Stand in motionless awe
Watching our shuttles fly.
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