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child poem

i can not tell you now
beneath my window in a city street
there is no flock, however watched and tended
the fragrance came
my true love from her pillow rose
sadly speaking
up from the south at break of day
noises that strive to tear
by the shore, by the sea
if i should die, think only this of me
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
the air is like a butterfly

 



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