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poem for dad

why so sad my lovely one?
we break the glass whose sacred wine
i stood
why are the things that have no death
just now
i had a dream and i awoke with it
dear wife
the old songs
my soul is a dark ploughed field
the ancient songs
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
there was a strangeness on your lips
we who stood
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred

 



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