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acrostic poem

why then, must we see?
under a spreading chestnut tree
in the dark and peace of my final bed
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
thou unrelenting past
from floor to ceiling
who is the runner in the skies
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
in september
dear wife
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel

 



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