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def poetry jam

when the hours of day are numbered
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
those black eyes i once so praised
arched the flood
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
daughters of time
up from the south at break of day
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
often i think of the beautiful town
i burn no incense
muffled drum's sad roll has beat

 



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