Statuettes
The swirls of curls
Parading gently into each Bently
Luxury more than sin of the fan
Smooth and porcelain, forever vain
Bright copper kettles tucked into the mettle
Cool and divine like a marble statue
Greek or Indian - the creek with the same gentle wave
Hiding every chisel move always stoically in the grove
Perfect is only two letters away from imperfect
Trapped in stone or roaming waiting to not be gone
Mere staged performances of happiness in dances
Chasing these ideas curated into museums for riders
Still and perpetually held in a crackless mould
Fits the bill, doesn't it?
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