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african american poetry

how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
you are my companion
my son is dead and i am going blind
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
leave the lovely words unsaid
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
made up of loveliness alone
take my bracelets
braided and woven
when the hours of day are numbered
they ask me where i've been
i can not tell you now
out of the window a sea of green trees

 



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