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mother daughter poem

the single clenched fist lifted and ready
be in me as the eternal moods
music i heard with you was more than music
shadows lay along broadway
among the mountains i wandered
through the broad earth's aching breast
storm
dear wife
why are the things that have no death
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
in may
there are three ways in which men take
those black eyes i once so praised

 



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