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retirement poem

risen from the dead
glooms of the live-oaks
i've won the race
rocked in the cradle of the deep
with joy and wonder
a thousand silent years ago
which i wish to remark
i gazed upon the glorious sky
take my bracelets
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
glass-blower of time
who will be naming the wind
the snow whispers about me

 



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