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teacher poem

mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
a arqué l'inondation
les chansons antiques
ce qui nous fera maintenant
ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité
les voûtes du pont rouge
il était un jeune oysterman grand
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
le jour est fait
je me suis tenu prêt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert

 



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