If morning is a dream
Of a beginning, of a day,
A poem, a songy lane,
I am your garden
Of blooming
Periwinkles,
If morning is a dream
I am your garden
Of blooming rhythm
And periwinkles too,
Freshened and sparkling,
Filled with dew.
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The State Funeral
At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut, She could not have spoken for The rare award, The police have done the th...
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