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life poetry

that strange companion came on shuffling feet
death's nobility again
when i was broke in london
our pleasant moments fly
the air is like a butterfly
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
the dawn was apple-green
grieve not for the invisible
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
he's gone
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
dark-eyed
do i like it

 



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