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missing you poem

i am fevered
my son is dead and i am going blind
to clothe the fiery thought
i fill this cup
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
i do not pray for peace
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
tripping up, falling down
these be
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
there was never a sound beside the wood but one

 



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