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teacher poem

the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
there's one that i once loved so much
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
all those treasures that lie
with lips blood red and heart of stone
with the sunset
the old west, the old time
i do not pray for peace
i saw god. do you doubt it?
the mountains they are silent folk
up from the meadows rich with corn

 



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