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haiku poetry

her face is fair and smooth and fine
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
out of the window a sea of green trees
risen from the dead
what shall we do now
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
like eagles on up high
from our hidden places
the light withdrawn
he'd even have his joke
why are the things that have no death
all quiet along the potomac
melancholy, blue it was

 



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