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sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
melancholy days have come
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
quietly, with reverance, in awe
i made a vow once, one only
through the broad earth's aching breast
i saw with open eyes
with the sunset
were it not for that singular smell
it tells of good old times
all my love for my sweet
i make my shroud, but no one knows

 



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