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wedding poem

had he and i but met
perhaps it is no matter that you died
have you seen walking through the village
by the rude bridge
this is the ship of pearl
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
i am a woman
dark-eyed
a pen of steel
quietly, with reverance, in awe
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room

 



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