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pastor appreciation poem

ich stand das geöffnete Flügelfenster bereit
im September
im Hafen neuen Yorks
wir legen
ich hatte einen Traum und ich wachte mit ihm auf
wer den Wind nennen wird
alle innen und alle ohne mich
warum so traurig mein reizendes?
wie das Glätten fällt

 



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