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grandmother poem

in september
some one complained to the master
grieve not for the invisible
she knows a cheap release
the stars fell from heaven
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
uplifting, as the wind blew
weak-winged is song
all those treasures that lie
who will be naming the wind
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
now for a brisk and cheerful fight

 



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