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sister poem

not from the whole wide world
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
listen
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
i made a vow once, one only
she limps with halting painful pace
old wine to drink
at dawn, he said
a storm is riding on the tide
when freedom from her mountain height
the light withdrawn
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred

 



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