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birthday poetry

she heard the children playing in the sun
blossoms of babies
grieve not for the invisible
i love the old melodious lays
shadows lay along broadway
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
i had over-prepared the event
doubtless i remember still
sweet with fern and rose
up to her chamber window
what do i owe to you
quietly, with reverance, in awe
simplicity

 



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