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mom poem

dieses ist das Arsenal
wenig Park, den ich durch führe
auf und ab geht ihn
ihr Gesicht ist angemessen und glatt und fein
ich singe Ihnen
Gedanken durch meinen Kopf
wenn die Stunden des Tages numeriert werden
und wie Sie Traum der Sitzung konnten
alle beruhigen entlang dem potomac
unter dem Helm des Warriors

 



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