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halloween poetry

from our hidden places
why do
i am a woman
the light withdrawn
were it not for that singular smell
the meadow was creeping
i make my shroud, but no one knows
since, if you stood by my side today
there were three in the meadow by the brook
before the solemn bronze saint
shades of night were falling fast
as evening falls
eighty years have passed, and more
often is it not so?

 



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