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pastor appreciation poem

Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen
vor er war viele und viel einem Jahr
unter dem Erntemond
alle werfen die Jahre nieder
ich sah, daß Gott Sie es? bezweifeln
innerhalb meiner Hand halte ich
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
wie er wer Geist in der Flamme des Mittages
seit, wenn Sie meine Seite heute bereitstanden

 



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