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modern poetry

he's gone
i know what you're going to say
i love to steal awhile away
a mist was driving down
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
night is dark, and the winter winds
shadows lay along broadway
but i cannot read you now
i had over-prepared the event
out of me unworthy and unknown
this ancient silver bowl of mine
quietly, with reverance, in awe
when i go back to earth
the old west, the old time

 



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