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grandma poem

serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
fuera del mar chispeante
si muero, piense solamente esto en mĂ­
todavía trece años
sobre los tejados compita con las sombras de nubes
cuando miraba en sus ojos
lo van
nosotros que estaban parados

 



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