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poem for dad

how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
lady, your heart has turned to dust
night was black and drear
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
with her hair flaying wildly
i cannot always feel his greatness
give me
little gate was reached at last
calm as that second summer
as i lie roofed in, screened in
day is done
i've won the race

 



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