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fall poetry

serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
nas manhăs nuvem-cinzentas
quem ama a chuva
com o por do sol
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
irmăo, eu sou fogo
caído assim
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
trançado e tecido
qual eu desejo observar
onde deva mim encontre-o

 



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