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love poem

behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
beside a stricken field
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
our pleasant moments fly
those black eyes i once so praised
my soul is a dark ploughed field
a look is but a ray
there were three in the meadow by the brook
stuff of the moon
leave the lovely words unsaid
is there anybody there
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
three years ago today

 



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