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baby shower poem

and breaketh bread no more
the body may confine
my sorrow, when she's here with me
quietly, with reverance, in awe
now while my lips are living
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
by the shore, by the sea
dark-eyed
softly now the light of day
good woman
perhaps it is no matter that you died
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
the saddest of the year

 



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