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poetry for kid

who will be naming the wind
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
my soul is a dark ploughed field
i love my life, but not too well
the ancient songs
there's one that i once loved so much
he'd even have his joke
i burn no incense
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
were it not for that singular smell
softly now the light of day
if i should die, think only this of me

 



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