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anniversary poetry

con su pelo flaying violentamente
con los ojos mansos, marrones
pueden hablar de amor en una cabaña
trenzado y tejido
mi alma va revestida en cosas magníficas
sobre el río hacen señas a mí
un cielo que nunca ha sabido el sol, la luna o las estrellas
las viejas canciones
cuál era él los motores dichos
la oscuridad
mi madre me enseñó que cada noche

 



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