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grandma poem

minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua
o doce com fern e levantou-se
alguns dias mais ventosos
do assoalho ao teto
eu moldei o mundo
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
escute o mar soando

 



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