And then, when noon comes,
Each stranger
Has no room left in the light
Except for only his hands.
Here are mine. They are kind of skinny. May I have your
lovely trees?

Autore: James Wright

And then, when noon comes, <br />Each stranger<br />Has no room left in the light<br />Except for only his hands.<br />Here are mine. They are kind of skinny. May I have your<br /> lovely trees? - James Wright



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