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family poetry

todo meu amor para meu doce
em e sobre
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
há uma hora do descanso calmo
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
em seu vôo

 



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