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erotic poem

often i think of the beautiful town
better than granite
but alas, just dreams
i can not tell you now
with the meek, brown eyes
when the wind works against us in the dark
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
i loved a woman
gloom
winged shadows sweeping by
let us express our baser passions
let us pity those who are better off than we are
we lay

 



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