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mother poem

j'ai vu que vous hunched et tremblant sur les pierres
laissez le bel unsaid de mots
vous vous rappelez
pourquoi si triste mon bel?
sous la feuille sombre de laurier
peut-ętre
polit le dernier âge, le prochain avec espoir est vu
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
en ce moment
un regard est mais un rayon

 



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