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baby poem

and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
let me be sad
the meadow was creeping
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
with the meek, brown eyes
better than granite
if i were very sure
i wonder where you live
you are clear
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
we were not many
here falls no light

 



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