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friendship poem

gone are the three, those sisters rare
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
beside a stricken field
sad are they who know not love
night was black and drear
be patient, life, when love is at the gate
with lips blood red and heart of stone
which i wish to remark
i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
we who stood
he's gone
do i like it

 



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