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thanksgiving poetry

mejore que el granito
era una diosa ere el mármol me encontró
una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
podríamos sino saber
la nieve susurra sobre mí
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
usted dice que usted me ama
mire detrás con los ojos longing y sepa que seguiré

 



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