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fall poetry

a few more windy days
often i think of the beautiful town
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
i went up and down the streets
beneath the warrior's helm
in the dark and peace of my final bed
my sorrow, when she's here with me
to clothe the fiery thought
with lips blood red and heart of stone
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
sweet with fern and rose
i hold your heart

 



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