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baby poem

sing again the song you sung
i am old and blind
uplifting, as the wind blew
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
there is a city, builded by no hand
hang no wreath
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
what do i owe to you
let us express our baser passions
and with the humming bird
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
you are clear

 



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