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lost love poem

como ela
o prado estava rastejando
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
eighty anos passaram, e mais
eu vi-o uma vez antes
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
Ă© ido
as sombras colocam ao longo de broadway

 



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