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poetry in motion

she limps with halting painful pace
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
did you ever hear of
i am the wind that wavers
night is dark, and the winter winds
since, if you stood by my side today
musing, between the sunset and the dark
and how could you dream of meeting
in may
i have heard them in the night
could we but know
i do not pray for peace
there was never a sound beside the wood but one

 



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