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footprint poem

en alguna parte leí un cuento extraño, viejo, oxidado
cuando los mar-vientos perforaron nuestras soledades
el amanecer era verde
la noche es oscura, y los vientos del invierno
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
ahora mientras que están viviendo mis labios
he echado el mundo
sé lo que usted va a decir

 



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