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retirement poem

my sorrow, when she's here with me
to be able to see every side of every question
up from the south at break of day
a few more windy days
a little peach in the orchard grew
some of the hurts you have cured
i went up and down the streets
music i heard with you was more than music
there is no flock, however watched and tended
for these white arms about my neck


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