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baby shower poem

sous la lune de moisson
dossier une nuit de vol
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
nous avons aucune honte?
la terre garde aller de vibration
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
dernier minuit
ce compagnon étrange est venu sur brouiller des pieds
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
à ce qui une femme la comparera aimée
vous faites entendre

 



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