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baby shower poem

eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
melancolia, azul era
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
seu cabelo bonito
vindo para baixo no alvorecer dos montes windless
a noite era preta e drear
sol e vento e batida do mar
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
de nossos lugares escondidos
este é o navio da pérola
conseqüentemente eu não posso
cão do gingham e o gato do calico
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
ao longo de um river-side

 



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