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grandmother poem

para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
como ela
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
eu despise meus amigos mais do que você
bonito
em todas as coisas não faladas de
assim perdido
mulher boa
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
teria mesmo seu gracejo
sad são que sabem não o amor

 



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