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footprint poem

where shall i find you
sweet and strong
pushing out, struggling vainly
eighty years have passed, and more
long has the summer sunlight shone
backward, turn backward
last midnight
little park that i pass through
if i should die, think only this of me
the air is full of dawn and spring
there are gains for all our losses
calm as that second summer
world that changes under my hand

 



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