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missing you poem

there are gains for all our losses
softly weeping
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
arched the flood
he came and took me by the hand
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
sweet splendor
darkest, strangest mystery
with the meek, brown eyes
there is a city, builded by no hand
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds

 



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