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poem for dad

a pen of steel
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
little gate was reached at last
above them all, looking down
tripping up, falling down
with lips blood red and heart of stone
i have had one fear in my life
if the red slayer think he slays
it tells of good old times
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night

 



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