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fall poem

ha sentito i bambini giocare al sole
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
vi ricordate di
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
la mia anima va placcata nelle cose gorgeous
un miglio dietro
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente è stata mescolata

 



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