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teen poetry

like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
at dawn, he said
mysterious night
as evening falls
who loves the rain
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
just as my fingers on these keys
the old songs
still thirteen years
the pale day drowses on the western steep
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
for truth, for love
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways

 



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