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i miss you poem

shadows lay along broadway
my son is dead and i am going blind
here lies a most beautiful lady
it tells of good old times
babylon-where i go dreaming
and with the humming bird
the mountains they are silent folk
but alas, just dreams
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
among the mountains i wandered
brief on a flying night
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen

 



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