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thanksgiving poem

a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
risen from the dead
what was it the engines said
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
have you not heard
why then, must we see?
though i am little as all little things
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
those black eyes i once so praised
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
the air is full of dawn and spring
truely
never in all my life
that strange companion came on shuffling feet

 



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