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short friendship poem

no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
cuando las horas del día se numeran
hice una pausa el marco abierto
algún se quejó al amo
flores de bebés
como miento cubierto adentro, defendido adentro
no éramos muchos
entre las montańas vagué
en septiembre
qué yo le deben
nunca había un sonido al lado de la madera pero de una

 



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