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father poem

she limps with halting painful pace
the earth keeps some vibration going
she must go back, she said
did you ever hear of
at dawn, he said
darkest, strangest mystery
let us express our baser passions
little gate was reached at last
glooms of the live-oaks
i've won the race
out of the window a sea of green trees
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes

 



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