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son poem

a escuridão
o ar é como uma borboleta
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
diz de épocas velhas boas
não há nenhum rebanho, porém prestado atenção e tendido
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
eu tenho que dizer good-night
você recorda

 



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