On the Ninth hour
Just south of Northern Nubia
Nine nymph-like waifs
(All nieces of the Negus)
Naively danced nude
With a nebulous-like gauzy cloth
Tied to the nape of their necks.
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(A Villanelle)
She was ne’er ablaze, neither mere flash of prism’s light—
Within her depths, burned darkest smoldering fire.
Anguished heart—pure love and passion would endless fight.
She’d dance for all to watch throughout the night—
And the soldiers, sabers resting, offered coin to hire.
She was ne’er ablaze, neither mere flash of prism’s light.