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i miss you poem

wölbte die Flut
unter meinem Fenster in einer Stadtstraße
erinnern sich Sie
wenig Park, den ich durch führe
denken Sie, mein Junge, wenn ich meine Arme um Sie setze
unter dem Helm des Warriors
ich stand das geöffnete Flügelfenster bereit
ich bildete ein Versprechen einmal, eins nur
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind

 



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