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halloween poetry

uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
mulher boa
eu estive pelo casement aberto
uplifting, como o vento fundiu
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
era o outono do ano
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
duas fileiras dos repolhos
há uma hora do descanso calmo

 



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