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writing poetry

ein Sturm fährt auf den Tide
ich liege am Tabellenberg
Tage endeared zu jedem MUSE
sie hat einen freien Raum, Wind-geschütztes loveliness
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag
liebe Frau
in Ihren Armen war ruhige Freude
seien Sie, Leben geduldig, wenn Liebe am Gatter ist
Vögel gegen den Aprilwind
es gibt keine Menge, gleichwohl aufgepaßt und geneigt

 



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