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short poem

day is done
i saw the first pear
i saw him once before
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
braided and woven
in and of itself
wheel me down by the meadow
gone are the three, those sisters rare
stay no more
what shall we do now
those black eyes i once so praised
birds against the april wind
do i like it
days endeared to every muse

 



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