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pumpkin poem

if i should die, think only this of me
splendid and terrible your love
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
this is the song of youth
thou unrelenting past
there by the window in the old house
the ancient songs
with lips blood red and heart of stone
three years ago today
world that changes under my hand
to what shall a woman liken her beloved

 



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