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kid poem

elle était une beauté en jours
je ne brûle aucun encens
au-dessus des dessus de toit emballez les ombres des nuages
en matins nuage-gris
doucement pleurant
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
observer toute la journée la vague bleue se courber et se casser
dans ma main je me tiens
par le pont grossier
et pain de breaketh pas plus
ombres à ailes balayant près

 



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