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retirement poem

stuff of the moon
your body's motion is like music
i saw the first pear
the meadow was creeping
she was a beauty in the days
who loves the rain
the darkness rolls upward
dear wife
they may talk of love in a cottage
there was a strangeness on your lips
there's one that i once loved so much
let us express our baser passions
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it

 



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