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mother daughter poem

de largo hace, en el claro de luna joven
era un oysterman joven alto
la oscuridad roba las formas de todas las reinas
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
asustado no más, digo
porqué lo haga
gaily a través de los campos bailamos
el sentarse en su eje de balancín que espera su té
para entonces fuera
he visto las estrellas más orgullosas

 



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