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acrostic poem

tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
nos moments plaisants volent
peu de parc que je traverse
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon
elle a éclaté le vin féroce
parmi les montagnes j'ai erré
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
un avec vous
je descends les chemins de jardin
comme un homme nu je vont
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé


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