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sister poem

as evening falls
the old songs
under the harvest moon
he speaks not well
see, they return
in the dark and peace of my final bed
the pale day drowses on the western steep
let a joy keep you
who will be naming the wind
when a deed is done for freedom
sweet splendor
music i heard with you was more than music
roses and gold
i love my life, but not too well

 



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