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family poetry

até sua janela da câmara
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
receoso não mais, eu digo
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
se eu souber o narrow uma prisão é amor
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
quem é o corredor nos céus
é frequentemente não assim?
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
eu prendo seu coração

 



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