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romantic love poem

long has the summer sunlight shone
often is it not so?
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
so fallen
when i returned at sunset
the dawn was apple-green
let us plant
we were not many
i reside at table mountain
i said
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me

 



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