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teen poem

Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet
mit dem Sonnenuntergang
jenseits schauen
alle werfen die Jahre nieder
ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
ich erwarte Sie
es gibt keine Menge, gleichwohl aufgepaßt und geneigt
in einem alten Raum beleuchtete weich
geben Sie mir Hunger
Roses und Gold
wenn es

 



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