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short friendship poem

the old songs
where shall i find you
brother, i am fire
i know not where
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
i do not pray for peace
i stood by the open casement
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
in his guarded tent
tell me

 



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