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mother daughter poem

l'aube était vert pomme
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
améliorez que le granit
stand ici par mon côté
splendide et terrible votre amour
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui
vous ĂŞtes clair
tous en baisse les années
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne

 



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