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prose poetry

softly weeping
sweet with fern and rose
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
darkest, strangest mystery
as i lie roofed in, screened in
have you seen walking through the village
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
world that changes under my hand
the long resounding marble corridors
when the hours of day are numbered
i love to steal awhile away

 



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