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father poem

look out upon the stars, my love
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
there is no flock, however watched and tended
the air is like a butterfly
i fill this cup
the poets tell
braided and woven
sad are they who know not love
in your flight
royal feast was done
we were not many
better than granite
still thirteen years
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes

 



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