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footprint poem

nossos momentos agradáveis voam
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
no alvorecer, disse
sad são que sabem não o amor
não seja falso
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
a luz retirada
eu vou minha maneira complacently
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
vivido pelo river-side
o prado estava rastejando


 



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