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mother daughter poem

a lo largo de una orilla
nunca había un sonido al lado de la madera pero de una
de'bil-se va volando la canción
cuando miraba en sus ojos
en septiembre
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas
estoy viejo y oculto
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano

 



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