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funny poem

in your arms was still delight
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
softly weeping
no prey am i of poor thoughts
i love my life, but not too well
simplicity
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
he'd even have his joke
take my bracelets
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
lady, your heart has turned to dust
blossoms of babies
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
you are my companion

 



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