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pumpkin poem

why do you always stand there shivering
stuff of the moon
though i am little as all little things
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
he's gone
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
there is an hour of peaceful rest
in the sphere
the sky
when a deed is done for freedom
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
just now
i never knew the earth had so much gold

 



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