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teen love poem

somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
up from the south at break of day
the old songs
i am singing to you
two rows of cabbages
quietly, with reverance, in awe
i make my shroud, but no one knows
my true love from her pillow rose
let me move slowly through the street
those black eyes i once so praised
give me
thou unrelenting past
at dawn, he said
the air is like a butterfly

 



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