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grandma poem

ich bot sie aller Abschied
ich sah ihn einmal vorher
wer den Regen liebt
der Duft kam
Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet
aus dem Fenster heraus ein Meer der grünen Bäume
der Regen sein rüber und die leuchtende Luft
wenn ich gekonnt hatte, Enge ein Gefängnis Liebe ist
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
es war der Herbst des Jahres
sehen Sie, daß ich Ihnen mich gebe

 



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