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short funny poem

i shake my hair in the wind of morning
let us pity those who are better off than we are
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
now while my lips are living
when i returned at sunset
she burst fierce wine
i saw god. do you doubt it?
the pale day drowses on the western steep

 



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