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pumpkin poem

tell me
sleep, gray brother of death
who loves the rain
come down at dawn from windless hills
all down the years
my son is dead and i am going blind
your body's motion is like music
be patient, life, when love is at the gate
have you heard
up from the meadows rich with corn
she was a beauty in the days
truely
here lies a most beautiful lady

 



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