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thanksgiving poem

démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux
je me suis tenu
elle a éclaté le vin féroce
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
il y a une heure du repos paisible
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs

 



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