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break up poem

this ancient silver bowl of mine
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
with lips blood red and heart of stone
and so it goes
out of the deep and the dark
i cannot always feel his greatness
we who stood
by the shore, by the sea
my true love from her pillow rose
soft as the bed in the earth
that strange companion came on shuffling feet
there are three ways in which men take
i fill this cup

 



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