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sister poem

the endless, foolish merriment of stars
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
perhaps
braided and woven
when the wind works against us in the dark
with the meek, brown eyes
i bid them all farewell
when the hours of day are numbered
soft as the bed in the earth
let me move slowly through the street
this ancient silver bowl of mine

 



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