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funeral poem

i saw the first pear
have you not heard
my sorrow, when she's here with me
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
a pen of steel
the little white prayers
with the meek, brown eyes
the hypocritic days
rising moon has hid the stars
in your arms was still delight
glass-blower of time
i hold your heart
doubtless i remember still

 



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