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frist of january
Men have a new year,
But not the seagulls,
No first of January for them,
They glide in the wind,
That is enough for my happiness,
The sea is a mirror for the soul,
eternity too,
Imagine the seagulls
like to be looked at
If I am alone to read this poem,
He has no interest.
Copyright ©
Yann Rolland
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