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def poetry

we who stood
friend, whose smile has come to be
i am old and blind
the air is like a butterfly
let me be sad
the poets tell
see i give myself to you
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
listen to the sounding sea
where shall i find you
uplifting, as the wind blew
i fill this cup
soft as the bed in the earth
they ask me where i've been

 



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