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última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
um céu que nunca soubesse o sol, a lua ou as estrelas
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
felicidade
receoso não mais, eu digo
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina

 



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