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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