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happy birthday poem

we break the glass whose sacred wine
the lightning flashed, and lifted
hang no wreath
i gazed upon the glorious sky
our pleasant moments fly
i know not where
my mother taught me that every night
i know what you're going to say
since i have felt the sense of death
see, from this counterfeit of him
i wonder where you live
in new york harbor
with the meek, brown eyes

 



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