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sister poem

escuche el mar del sonido
ciudad que no es una ciudad
hice una pausa el marco abierto
era el otoño del año
cuando miraba en sus ojos
nunca había un sonido al lado de la madera pero de una
poco parque que paso a través
los días melancólicos han venido
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana

 



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