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poem for dad

são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
e pão do breaketh mais
sadly falando
mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
um com você
na meia-noite
existir da cisne
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
se ele
carrinho aqui por meu lado
como ele de quem espírito na chama do meio-dia
sombras voadas que varrem perto
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio

 



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