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kid poem

filhas do tempo
a escuridăo rola para cima
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
levantado dos mortos
os dias endeared a cada MUSE
do assoalho ao teto
diga-me
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio

 



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