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elements of poetry

she limps with halting painful pace
perhaps it is no matter that you died
there by the window in the old house
all within and all without me
i have heard them in the night
brother, i am fire
babylon-where i go dreaming
i burn no incense
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
eighty years have passed, and more
friend, whose smile has come to be
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds

 



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