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pumpkin poem

se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
mai in tutta la mia vita
lasci il unsaid bello di parole
come le aquile sul high alto
addolorisi non per l'invisibile
dalla finestra un mare degli alberi verdi
ombre alate che scopano vicino
in pieno delle rotture
andato prima di noi
li ho sentiti nella notte
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me

 



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