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footprint poem

the old songs
when i go back to earth
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
this is the arsenal
there is no escape by the river
what was it the engines said
why so sad my lovely one?
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
over the river they beckon to me
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
i love to steal awhile away

 



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