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grandma poem

eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
diga-me não
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
poderíamos nós mas para saber
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
encontra-se aqui uma senhora a mais bonita
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro

 



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