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child poem

with her hair flaying wildly
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
you say you love me
like eagles on up high
i cannot always feel his greatness
there is an hour of peaceful rest
i love my life, but not too well
for these white arms about my neck
under the harvest moon
here lies a most beautiful lady
he came and took me by the hand
all within and all without me

 



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