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funny poetry

your body's motion is like music
do not turn your head
i bid them all farewell
my soul is a dark ploughed field
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
i loved a woman
we break the glass whose sacred wine
little park that i pass through
did you ever see an alligator
up from the meadows rich with corn
burly, dozing humble-bee
under the harvest moon

 



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