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On The Margins Of A Poem
The poem
that I chose for you
is simple,
as are all my singing poems.
It has the trace of a veil,
a little balsam,
and a taste of the honey
of lies.
There is also
the coming end of summer
when heat scorches the meadow
and the quick waters
of the river
cease to flow.
Anonymous Submission
poem
by
JirĂ Mordechai Langer
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