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mom poem

a thousand silent years ago
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
quietly, with reverance, in awe
i made a vow once, one only
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
brief on a flying night
as it
what do i owe to you
i burn no incense
she knows a cheap release
when night drifts along the streets of the city
since, if you stood by my side today

 



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