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footprint poem

você ouve a chuva?
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
escuro-eyed
a música i ouvido com você era mais do que a música
jogaram uma pedra, você jogaram uma pedra
glass-blower do tempo
em todas as coisas não faladas de
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
prazeres mid e palácios embora nós podemos vaguear

 



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