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epic poetry

gone before us
now that i have cooled to you
i love the old melodious lays
the saddest of the year
my soul is a dark ploughed field
over the river they beckon to me
gaily through the fields we danced
no prey am i of poor thoughts
in halls of sleep you wandered by
sweet and strong
perhaps it is no matter that you died
but alas, just dreams
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
the darkness rolls upward

 



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