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baby shower poem

and breaketh bread no more
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
night is dark, and the winter winds
perhaps it is no matter that you died
to the passionate lover
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
i made a vow once, one only
i am the wind that wavers
their beautiful hair
god
that year

 



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