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love poem

i do not pray for peace
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
i cannot always feel his greatness
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
do i like it
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
in your arms was still delight
shades of night were falling fast
i bid them all farewell
beside a stricken field
my son is dead and i am going blind

 



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