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friendship poems

two rows of cabbages
do the boys and girls still go
and so it goes
perhaps it is no matter that you died
death's nobility again
in their ragged regimentals
i am a woman
the mountains they are silent folk
why are the things that have no death
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
and breaketh bread no more
three years ago today
darkest, strangest mystery
when freedom from her mountain height

 



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