Folgen
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Behind the glass of her brand-new door,
She barks at neighbors crossing the floor.
A rescued soul still learning to trust,
Each echo holds hope she'll rise above fear's dust.
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On city streets in afternoon's gray,
Cars vroom and weave, a bustling sway.
Engines hum with a rhythmic beat,
Life pulses fast beneath the feet.
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Fehlende Folgen?
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In Alabama’s quiet wilds, the Sipsey Fork softly sings,
Moss-covered stones share autumn’s tender whisperings,
Rust-gold leaves drift on calm currents gleaming bright,
The river’s ancient murmurs carry seasons in their flight.
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Amid the chill of winter's gray domain,
A towering tree succumbs to saw and crane.
Its branches lie in jagged heaps, undone,
While workers toil beneath a muted sun.
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In the hush of night, gentle rain threads through empty streets,
Droplets on asphalt whisper soft secrets to the silence.
A distant headlight wanders, painting wet roads in gold,
Each falling bead of water sings within the sleeping city.
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In late morning's glow, the city hums,
Cars weave through streets as rhythm drums.
Engines purr beneath the sun,
Life in motion before day's run.
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Silver bird upon the runway gleams,
Airbus A319's engines roar and scream.
Ascending skyward through the morning hue,
She takes to flight, embracing skies anew.
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Through winding roads, I swiftly glide,
A tap, a match—my Uber ride.
Wheels turn smooth as engines purr,
Homeward bound with ease and stir.
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In meadows wide beneath the open sky,
Birds sing their songs as gentle winds pass by.
Along the country roads where few cars glide,
And people walk through nature's quiet side.
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Someone's pounding on the neighbor's door,
She hears the noise and starts to roar.
Her bark resounds, a brave alarm,
Defending home from any harm.
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On Iberia's shores, the Atlantic sings,
Waves whisper tales as the salty breeze swings.
A symphony of tides beneath the sky,
The ocean's voice, a timeless lullaby.
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In dawn's embrace on Iberian skies,
Birds weave their songs, a soft reply.
But silence falls as engines rise,
A moment lost - a car drives by.
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Rain drapes the Iberian plains anew,
Silver drops adorn the morning dew.
Palm trees sway beneath the gentle rain,
Nature's song unfolds across the terrain.
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Through winding roads of Iberia we glide,
An Indian driver shares this ride.
From distant lands to where we roam,
We weave new stories far from home.
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My neighbor's drill hums through the day,
A buzzing song that won't delay.
Each whir and spin echoes afar,
As walls vibrate beneath the star.
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The garbage truck rolls through the morning mist,
Collecting glass from bins the sun has kissed.
Bottles clink and tinkle as they're tossed,
To be remade from fragments once thought lost.
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A fleeting stroll along the shore,
Where ocean whispers evermore.
The waves compose a soothing sound,
In moments brief, my peace is found.
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On a quiet road beneath the sky,
Rare cars pass, then silence nigh.
From left to right, from right to left they roam,
Brief whispers on their journey home.
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In Iberian afternoons aglow,
Birds sing where olive trees bestow.
Their melodies meet engines' sigh,
As cars beneath them rumble by.
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At dawn on Iberia's hills and plains,
Birds sing in stereo their sweet refrains.
From mountain peaks to valleys low,
Their melodies weave where warm winds blow.
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