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entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
cão do gingham e o gato do calico
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
pela ponte rude
poderíamos nós mas para saber
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se
desde que, se você estiver por meu lado hoje
o ar é como uma borboleta
tempestade
melancolia, azul era
última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco

 



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