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african american poetry

softly weeping
up and down he goes
beautiful
those black eyes i once so praised
when, full of warm and eager love
world that changes under my hand
the snow whispers about me
in the dark and peace of my final bed
i love my hour of wind and light
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
there is no escape by the river
stand here by my side
of sun nor stars

 



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