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i love you poem

as evening falls
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
tell me not
i make my shroud, but no one knows
happiness
let us pity those who are better off than we are
long ago, in the young moonlight
what spiteful chance steals unawares
she said
a bird sang
i saw with open eyes
my soul is a dark ploughed field

 



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