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brother poem

let me be sad
their beautiful hair
my sorrow, when she's here with me
this ancient silver bowl of mine
sad are they who know not love
who is the runner in the skies
to be able to see every side of every question
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
wheel me down by the meadow
from floor to ceiling
the sun is up
i know not where
good woman

 



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