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free love poetry

grieve not for the invisible
do not grieve that it is over
i love the old melodious lays
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
shades of night were falling fast
there were three in the meadow by the brook
out of the window a sea of green trees
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
who is the runner in the skies

 



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