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anniversary poem

what do i owe to you
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
i make my shroud, but no one knows
my true love from her pillow rose
sun stepped down from his golden throne
let me move slowly through the street
there was a time in former years
calm as that second summer
i made a vow once, one only
were it not for that singular smell
i saw him once before
that year
often i think of the beautiful town

 



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