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thanksgiving poetry

if the red slayer think he slays
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
did you ever hear of
when night drifts along the streets of the city
little park that i pass through
royal feast was done
do the boys and girls still go
i shall see a star tonight
sun stepped down from his golden throne
over the river they beckon to me
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones

 



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