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mother poem

a neve sussurra sobre mim
como nivelar cai
três anos há hoje
a terra mantem algum ir da vibração
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
calma como que segundo verão
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
era muitas e muito um ano há
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
ao longo dos bancos
eu tive um sonho e eu acordei com ele
gloom
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro

 



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