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About This Poem
Night
If I'd only listened to the wind before
But my gaping eyes were lost; the flying have flown
A black horizon, wings, spiraling in all directions
And that gentle air now lashes with venom at my windows
I'm afraid that I'm awake, but furtive eyes still peep at me
Swaying bodies of the trees, bowing down with great groans
Bereft of leaves, I can only listen as the song turns to a scream!
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