.Schubladenfach-Geheimnis,vergilbtes Stückchen BriefflieÃt durch meine Finger,rüttelt wach, was lange schlief.Zeilen voll Erinnerung,von bittersüà bis lieb. Und Blickrichtung nach damals,staun' ich, was davon alles blieb.
Deine Mutter horcht vorm Zimmer,und wir schmusen durch den Raum.der al.
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