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poetry for kid

the single clenched fist lifted and ready
wheel me down by the meadow
the air is full of dawn and spring
i have seen the proudest stars
were it not for that singular smell
tell me less or tell me more
she limps with halting painful pace
wrap the earth in cloudy weather
this is the song of youth
which i wish to remark
let us pity those who are better off than we are
at midnight
with her hair flaying wildly
under the harvest moon

 



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