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sunnuntai 12. lokakuuta 2014

Good morning





Ends silence, 
when the morning creeps
 into the room wearing socks. 
It edge of the mat 
stumbles, which is a huge clattering, 
when the toe strikes the electrical for the stove. 
Subscribe to my heart the day I do. 
I hope to rise to the sky, that 
high illuminating the ball. What 
is called the sun. 
Overnight cruel dreams out already 
fled away, departed the night 
The kingdom of gnomes. 
Now it's Sunday, and the sky 
hundred white cotton candy. 
Is it the white snow? 

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