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christmas poem

braided and woven
the air is like a butterfly
in your arms was still delight
quietly, with reverance, in awe
do the boys and girls still go
i go my way complacently
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
now that i have cooled to you
one by one, like leaves from a tree
with her hair flaying wildly
the light withdrawn
two rows of cabbages
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it

 



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