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teacher poem

they ask me where i've been
what spiteful chance steals unawares
i do not pray for peace
darkest, strangest mystery
she was a beauty in the days
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
brief on a flying night
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
in halls of sleep you wandered by
therefore i may not
for truth, for love

 



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