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contemporary poetry

the stars fell from heaven
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
bring me soft song
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
sleep, gray brother of death
no prey am i of poor thoughts
pushing out, struggling vainly
renew the vision of delight
you are my companion
softly now the light of day
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
we lay
in september

 



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