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mom poem

along a river-side
the stars fell from heaven
music i heard with you was more than music
come down at dawn from windless hills
for these white arms about my neck
there is an hour of peaceful rest
i expect you
i am old and blind
you say you love me
it was a tall young oysterman
in the cloud-gray mornings
see, they return
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
as i lie roofed in, screened in


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