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thanksgiving poem

o doce com fern e levantou-se
eu vi a primeira pera
era uma beleza nos dias
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
qual se mantem
última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você

 



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