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acrostic poem

ainsi tombé
l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
nos moments plaisants volent
indéfiniment
tous apaisent le long du potomac
maintenant tandis que mes lèvres vivent
maintenant que je me suis refroidi à vous

 



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