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thanksgiving poetry

diga-me năo
escute
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
eliminar, esforçando-se vainly
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro
eu vi com olhos abertos
olhar além
pela costa, pelo mar
diz de épocas velhas boas
com os olhos meek, marrons
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes

 



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