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father poem

Roses und Gold
eine Meile nach
in Ihrem Flug
das kleine mitfühlende, getragen, Lachengesichter
Dame, Ihr Herz hat an Staub gewendet
es ist zutreffend, daß Sie sagen, daß die Götter mehr Gebrauch zu Ihnen als Feen sind
an der Dämmerung sagte er
war sie nicht für diesen einzigartigen Geruch

 



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