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father poem

see, they return
i fill this cup
beneath the warrior's helm
she must go back, she said
i gazed upon the glorious sky
i am singing to you
all those treasures that lie
for truth, for love
night was black and drear
you are beautiful and faded
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
within my hand i hold
when night drifts along the streets of the city

 



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