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grandmother poem

are you awake?
it was a tall young oysterman
in may
a life on the ocean wave
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
winged shadows sweeping by
why do
take my bracelets
i think it just splendid
why then, must we see?
could we but know
calm as that second summer
my son is dead and i am going blind
up from the south at break of day

 



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