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grandmother poem

there is a country full of wine
better than granite
when i was broke in london
there is no flock, however watched and tended
friend, whose smile has come to be
when, full of warm and eager love
just as my fingers on these keys
i had over-prepared the event
they ask me where i've been
i love to steal awhile away
now that i have cooled to you
when a deed is done for freedom

 



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