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autumn poem

the rain was over, and the brilliant air
shades of night were falling fast
tell me not
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
i have heard them in the night
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
she burst fierce wine
often is it not so?
this is the song of youth
he's gone
is there anybody there
afraid no more, i say
who is the runner in the skies
when night drifts along the streets of the city

 



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