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dark poetry

and so it goes
and still they walked on
could we but know
now while my lips are living
one with you
but alas, just dreams
the ancient songs
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
blossoms of babies
now that i have cooled to you
there were three in the meadow by the brook
burly, dozing humble-bee
when the wind works against us in the dark

 



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