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prose poetry

rose and amber was the sunset on the river
when the hours of day are numbered
high-born race
you say you love me
and with the humming bird
there by the window in the old house
my true love from her pillow rose
my sorrow, when she's here with me
the light withdrawn
no prey am i of poor thoughts
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
you are my companion
a few more windy days
if i were very sure

 



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