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christmas poem

ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
tressé et tissé
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
vous entendez la pluie?
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux
je descends les chemins de jardin
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver

 



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