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pastor appreciation poem

como ella
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
en y encendido
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
paredes y enorme altos
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
déme
ella estallĂł el vino feroz
el sol está para arriba
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
ahora que me he refrescado a usted

 



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