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short love poem

birds against the april wind
this ancient silver bowl of mine
look out upon the stars, my love
stir
did you ever hear of
since, if you stood by my side today
what do i owe to you
do not turn your head
friend, whose smile has come to be
up from the meadows rich with corn
high walls and huge
night is dark, and the winter winds
she might have known it in the earlier spring

 



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