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best friend poem

there is a city, builded by no hand
and still they walked on
as evening falls
mysterious night
leave the lovely words unsaid
the hypocritic days
i make my shroud, but no one knows
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
i stood
gaily through the fields we danced
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
who is the runner in the skies
bring me soft song

 



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