A Taste full of Grace

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Today I awoke and broke this stamp on day

I lit the barn stoking flame with yesterday pain

Drawing cowhides and my duck visor hat

Started out easy with a tap tap tap

Rolled out orange till lit yellow she came

This drawn out method undresses her flame

And slams into shape visions inside my head

Rolling out shape now alive from the dead

Steal arms, still able, hard legs, and top frame

One inch stamps under frame form my name

Flatbar, round stock, wrought iron, pig

I’ll shape into beautiful, tasteful, and something I dig

The sun and the flame lower their light in praise

Back of the barn, back to a black bed custom made

Steel hands, anvil, biceps from pounding through years

A big bad strong blacksmith pins back his ringing ears

Forearming the flood of sweat mixed with steely tears

Pulls from the living fire, hot tiny ballerina of taste

An exact duplicate, of his late wives graceful face

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