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birthday poetry

truely
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
be not angry with me
i saw the clouds among the hills
rising moon has hid the stars
i despise my friends more than you
gone are the three, those sisters rare
i am a woman
little gate was reached at last
since i have felt the sense of death
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
i see all human wits

 



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