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baby poem

when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
there is no flock, however watched and tended
three years ago today
rose and amber was the sunset on the river
i despise my friends more than you
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
for truth, for love
let me be sad
uplifting, as the wind blew
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
when i returned at sunset
with the meek, brown eyes

 



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