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anniversary poem

the single clenched fist lifted and ready
let us express our baser passions
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
in and of itself
skies they were ashen and sober
rocked in the cradle of the deep
weak-winged is song
passing through huddled and ugly walls
what spiteful chance steals unawares
i love the old melodious lays
i go my way complacently
there by the window in the old house
when the hours of day are numbered
for then without

 



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