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footprint poem

when night drifts along the streets of the city
you say you love me
could we but know
my mother taught me that every night
we were not many
love me at last, or if you will not
lady, your heart has turned to dust
musing, between the sunset and the dark
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
what do i owe to you
skies they were ashen and sober
i gazed upon the glorious sky
hang no wreath
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying

 



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