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romantic love poems

je me suis tenu prêt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert
comment comme les étoiles sont ces le blanc, les visages inconnus
beau
souvent je pense à la belle ville
ceux-ci soient
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
l'aube était vert pomme

 



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