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short friendship poem

a storm is riding on the tide
she burst fierce wine
but alas, just dreams
the arches of the red bridge
who will be naming the wind
before the solemn bronze saint
wheel me down by the meadow
from song and dream for ever gone
musing, between the sunset and the dark
he's gone
to come so soon to this imagined dark
star-dust and vaporous light

 



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