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sad poetry

dunkel-eyed
im Hafen neuen Yorks
ein kleiner Pfirsich im Obstgarten wuchs
Tochter, thoukunst kommen zu sterben
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
er wird gegangen
im September
Tag ist erfolgt
traurig sprechend
grünes Nachmittagsserene und hell
umsponnen und gesponnen
ich bilde meinen Abschirmrahmen, aber niemand weiß

 



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