De Bezem Door De VrijMiBo
In the late sun the birds flock flock.
The grey chipping of the hollyhock
Scatters the hectic weed
Around, around the maypole ground.
Highly is it longer anymore.
The hill has turned.
Warmly the branches speckle big
And always are the sounding sides rough.
The broken fur swells and breaks
Upon the garden wall.
The floor is swept with green.
Prettig weekend. En be nice.
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