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footprint poem

she might have known it in the earlier spring
when freedom from her mountain height
i am a woman
from floor to ceiling
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
since i have felt the sense of death
master of human destinies am i
dark-eyed
the sky
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
a little peach in the orchard grew
this ancient silver bowl of mine
give me

 



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