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teen poetry

the arches of the red bridge
what do i owe to you
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
in and of itself
uplifting, as the wind blew
a life on the ocean wave
tell me less or tell me more
we were not many
just as my fingers on these keys
and with the humming bird
when night drifts along the streets of the city
leave the lovely words unsaid
two rows of cabbages
lady, your heart has turned to dust

 



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