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■ November
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The tender light, its shelter lacking shape
Imagination going beyond the blue-inked lake, Awaited solitude, sharing dawn's rosy blush Resting together, above the world's mere flash No summer came after that day, And should I weep or feed my blame, Not lorn, we lurked yet strived for sheer, A light in threads of gold I hold as dear... Though tombs may rise over the cotton field Some hearts would pound, yet mouths to weak to yield, Dark shall embrace, earth then would scar, The river bank may hold our bodies melting tar... When wise may know, yet fear the root, What once was forgotten, now to be sought, I'd rather whil my burden to your ears, For those who weaken me, ingulf me in their tears.. It is you who beholds what renders me lump Whatever the wound that's kneeled me numb, Forseen is the light that brightens her eyes, Shall turn inner chaos to paradise...
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