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sorry poem

the snow whispers about me
daughters of time
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
beautiful
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
when the wind works against us in the dark
glass-blower of time
if i should die, think only this of me
though love repine, and reason chafe
full of tears
perhaps
when i returned at sunset
it was a tall young oysterman
green afternoon serene and bright

 



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