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child poem

que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
melancolia, azul era
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
ruídos que strive rasgar
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma măo
nossos momentos agradáveis voam

 



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