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cowboy poetry

wenig Gatter wurde schließlich erreicht
burly, DösenHumblebiene
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
wer den Wind nennen wird
über dem Fluß auf dem Hügel
wenig Park, den ich durch führe
mit den meek, braunen Augen

 



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