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good bye poem

be not angry with me
melancholy, blue it was
with joy and wonder
i am the wind that wavers
my mother taught me that every night
little gate was reached at last
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
like eagles on up high
grieve not for the invisible
pushing out, struggling vainly
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
all my love for my sweet

 



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