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thanksgiving poetry

in september
three years ago today
if it
there is no escape by the river
she limps with halting painful pace
long ago, in the young moonlight
the arches of the red bridge
i have heard that a certain princess
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
now that i have cooled to you
i am singing to you
let us plant
could we but know
i have heard them in the night

 



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