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halloween poetry

from our hidden places
a look is but a ray
blossoms of babies
friend, whose smile has come to be
do not turn your head
pushing out, struggling vainly
through the broad earth's aching breast
the arches of the red bridge
i stand in the cold gray weather
who loves the rain
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
i can not tell you now
like eagles on up high
it was many and many a year ago

 



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