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funny poetry

el prado se arrastraba
escuche el mar del sonido
ella cojea con parar paso doloroso
renueve la visión del placer
hace mil años silenciosos
no esté enojado con mí
evidenciado en la luz tenue en sus ojos
una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
y va tan
ido antes de nosotros

 



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