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religious poem

listen
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
uplifting, as the wind blew
sad are they who know not love
a mile behind
do not grieve that it is over
last midnight
i love my life, but not too well
with the meek, brown eyes
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
i make my shroud, but no one knows
little gate was reached at last

 



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