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short poem

qual se mantem
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
talvez
as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
ao longo dos bancos
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
eu vi que o deus você a duvida?
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
eu vi-o uma vez antes

 



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