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teen poem

um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
estrela-poeira e luz vaporosa
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
pela costa, pelo mar
eu sou fevered
um pensamento doce solemn
há uma hora do descanso calmo
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
como nivelar cai
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
filhas do tempo
como uma vela branca

 



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