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■ The oak
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I was changed. I am totally new.
The one you knew Has become so weak and small, A thread of dust on the skin of a doll. Her rain – it used to be a call, With nimble fingers like a waterfall Stroking a stubborn browny wall – Stopped yesterday. Empty tears of wind Caressed desert cheeks And spread away The sand of a former play, Sand of an old painted stone With a heart of bone And one mind alone. I was a cause, I am a hem. A hem of light in the night.
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