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family poetry

meine sorge, wenn sie hier mit mir ist
aber alas, gerade Träume
er spricht nicht gut
ein kleiner Pfirsich im Obstgarten wuchs
gaily durch die Felder tanzten wir
steigender Mond hat die Sterne versteckt
seien Sie nicht falsch
ich sah, daß Sie und shivering auf den Steinen hunched
für diese weißen Arme über meinen Ansatz
allein

 



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