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thanksgiving poetry

she was a beauty in the days
when the hours of day are numbered
there was a strangeness on your lips
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
green afternoon serene and bright
i saw with open eyes
there are three ways in which men take
there are gains for all our losses
the shadows of the ships
renew the vision of delight
i can not tell you now
as a white candle

 



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