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poetry in motion

o prado estava rastejando
eu estive
mas alas, sonhos justos
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
como selvagem, como bruxa-como estranho que a vida deve ser
se eu souber o narrow uma prisão é amor
esteja em mim como os modos eternal
no alvorecer, disse
quando eu retornei no por do sol
e ainda andaram sobre
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate

 



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