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funny poetry

in an old chamber softly lit
have you seen walking through the village
you are beautiful and faded
for then without
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
why do
my soul is a dark ploughed field
by the rude bridge
gone before us
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
white foam flower, red flame flower
see i give myself to you
birds against the april wind

 



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