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grandma poem

limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
moonlight profundo e macio
o que era ele os motores ditos
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
o merriment infinito, foolish das estrelas
havia um momento em anos anteriores
os corredores de mármore resounding longos
trançado e tecido
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante

 



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