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baby poem

ich halte Ihr Herz
stieg und Bernstein war der Sonnenuntergang auf dem Fluß
ich sah die Wolken unter den Hügeln
Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
mit Freude und Wunder
als ich in Ihre Augen schaute
dort durch das Fenster im alten Haus
irgendwo las ich eine merkwürdige, alte, rostige Geschichte
er warfen einen Stein, Sie warfen einen Stein

 



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