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christian poetry

in halls of sleep you wandered by
she said
my sorrow, when she's here with me
with the meek, brown eyes
i loved a woman
who will be naming the wind
take my bracelets
sadly speaking
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
from our hidden places
the pale day drowses on the western steep
why then, must we see?
beneath my window in a city street

 



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