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short love poem

diga-me
sob a lua da colheita
cara esposa
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
glass-blower do tempo
era uma oysterman novo alto
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
em setembro
teria mesmo seu gracejo
esteja em mim como os modos eternal
uplifting, como o vento fundiu

 



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