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fall poem

appena come mie barrette su queste chiavi
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
la musica i si è sentita con voi era più della musica
l'alba era verde mela
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente è stata mescolata
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa

 



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