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child poem

embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
há uma hora do descanso calmo
era uma oysterman novo alto
com os olhos meek, marrons
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
bonito
eu sobre-tinha preparado o evento
os poetas dizem
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
escute o mar soando
este é o arsenal

 



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