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short poem

alguns dias mais ventosos
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
a neve sussurra sobre mim
olhar além
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
existir da cisne
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
o relâmpago piscou, e levantou

 



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