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short friendship poem

in all things not spoken of
it tells of good old times
in new york harbor
to be able to see every side of every question
sadly speaking
skies they were ashen and sober
but alas, just dreams
all those treasures that lie
i love my life, but not too well
i saw with open eyes
in his guarded tent
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
a flying word from here and there
it was many and many a year ago

 



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