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wedding poetry

era não para esse cheiro singular
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
acima dos prados ricos com milho
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
seu cabelo bonito
eu sou velho e cego
se eu souber o narrow uma prisão é amor
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
e nse
fora do mar sparkling
este é o arsenal
uma vez este turf macio

 



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