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footprint poem

the sun is up
are you alive?
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
there is no escape by the river
often i think of the beautiful town
what spiteful chance steals unawares
i love my hour of wind and light
with lips blood red and heart of stone
out of the sparkling sea
i walk down the garden paths
city that is not a city
what do i owe to you

 



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