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friendship poems

bonito
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
amigo, cujo o sorriso veio ser
carrinho aqui por meu lado
desolado e solitário
as verdades terríveis estes sejam
você é bonito e desvanecido

 



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