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i miss you poem

i saw god. do you doubt it?
love me at last, or if you will not
there is an hour of peaceful rest
though love repine, and reason chafe
eighty years have passed, and more
their beautiful hair
skies they were ashen and sober
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
from our hidden places
in and of itself
city that is not a city

 



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