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footprint poem

listen
though i am little as all little things
i can not tell you now
for these white arms about my neck
who is the runner in the skies
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
love has been sung a thousand ways
royal feast was done
and how could you dream of meeting
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
up and down he goes

 



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