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friend poem

two rows of cabbages
i stand in the cold gray weather
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
she limps with halting painful pace
one by one, like leaves from a tree
he speaks not well
now that i have cooled to you
calm as that second summer
there was a time in former years
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
do not turn your head
often is it not so?
i had over-prepared the event

 



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