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footprint poem

gaily through the fields we danced
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
when i looked into your eyes
there is a country full of wine
so fallen
old wine to drink
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
the pale day drowses on the western steep
little park that i pass through
for then without
under a spreading chestnut tree
one by one, like leaves from a tree

 



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