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poem for dad

vous faites ne pas entendre
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
une fois ce gazon mou
je remplis cette tasse
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
dans le port de New York
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire

 



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