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birthday poetry

desolate and lone
at dawn, he said
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
why so sad my lovely one?
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
why do you always stand there shivering
sun and wind and beat of sea
and breaketh bread no more
the air is like a butterfly
i am old and blind
that strange companion came on shuffling feet

 



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