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halloween poem for kid

the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
quietly, with reverance, in awe
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
who will be naming the wind
it was a tall young oysterman
with lips blood red and heart of stone
it was many and many a year ago
burly, dozing humble-bee
sleep, gray brother of death
i've won the race
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars

 



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