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thank you poem

a fragrância veio
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
eu sou o vento que wavers
quem é o corredor nos céus
antes do saint de bronze solemn
na meia-noite
para a verdade, para o amor
é frequentemente não assim?
esse ano
em setembro
pela costa, pelo mar
glass-blower do tempo
todo meu amor para meu doce

 



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