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baby poem

os dias melancólicos vieram
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
duas fileiras dos repolhos
você diz que você me ama
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
eu encho este copo
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro

 



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