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son poem

i cannot always feel his greatness
as it
for then without
he's gone
in an old chamber softly lit
the ships are lying in the bay
give me
skies they were ashen and sober
she was a beauty in the days
i said, i have shut my heart
there was a strangeness on your lips
i stand in the cold gray weather
what spiteful chance steals unawares
often i think of the beautiful town

 



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