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best friend poem

i cannot always feel his greatness
some of the hurts you have cured
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
he came and took me by the hand
desolate and lone
the light withdrawn
stuff of the moon
our pleasant moments fly
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
love has been sung a thousand ways
high-born race
softly weeping
lady, your heart has turned to dust

 



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