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brother poem

little gate was reached at last
with the meek, brown eyes
friend, whose smile has come to be
night is dark, and the winter winds
her face is fair and smooth and fine
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
i expect you
who will be naming the wind
that strange companion came on shuffling feet
i loathed you
up from the meadows rich with corn
i have heard that a certain princess

 



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