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grandma poem

dossier une nuit de vol
nos moments plaisants volent
tous en baisse les années
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
ami, dont le sourire est venu pour être
laissez-moi être triste

 



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