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short friendship poem

birds against the april wind
never in all my life
she was a beauty in the days
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
among the mountains i wandered
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
she heard the children playing in the sun
a mile behind
melancholy days have come
why are the things that have no death
babylon-where i go dreaming
through the broad earth's aching breast
i loathed you

 



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