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famous poem

a pen of steel
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
the old songs
storm
i reside at table mountain
just now
when i looked into your eyes
these be
out of the deep and the dark
we who stood
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
i had over-prepared the event
now for a brisk and cheerful fight

 



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