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inspirational poetry

why are the things that have no death
at midnight
i have heard them in the night
why do you always stand there shivering
she burst fierce wine
she heard the children playing in the sun
a few more windy days
the long resounding marble corridors
have you heard
some of the hurts you have cured
the pale day drowses on the western steep
good woman
burly, dozing humble-bee
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought

 



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