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daughter poem

i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
arched the flood
rocked in the cradle of the deep
they may talk of love in a cottage
with her hair flaying wildly
doubtless i remember still
stern cold man
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
quietly, with reverance, in awe
why so sad my lovely one?
gone before us
the swan existing
dark-eyed

 



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