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thanksgiving poem

quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon
à minuit
maintenant tandis que mes lèvres vivent
bien que je sois peu en tant que toutes les petites choses
la nuit était noire et triste
une petite pêche dans le verger s'est développée
sous la lune de moisson

 



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