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grandma poem

suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
no prey am i of poor thoughts
calm as that second summer
once this soft turf
i love my life, but not too well
why are the things that have no death
with lips blood red and heart of stone
lived by the river-side
i loved a woman
within my hand i hold
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
dark-eyed
our pleasant moments fly
better than granite

 



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