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good bye poem

to be able to see every side of every question
were it not for that singular smell
in the cloud-gray mornings
all within and all without me
in may
when the wind works against us in the dark
i saw the clouds among the hills
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
the sky
i made a vow once, one only
the air is like a butterfly
sleep, gray brother of death

 



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