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thanksgiving poem

schön
eine Meile nach
noch schaukelt ihr Grau Aufsatz über das Meer
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
wie wie die Sterne dieses Weiß ist, namenlose Gesichter
ein Nebel fuhr unten
Gedanken durch meinen Kopf
Farbtöne der Nacht fielen schnell
die Schatten der Schiffe
gebildet vom loveliness alleine
wölbte die Flut

 



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