Life’s an Illusion

On this Monday –

Indeed the air

The upcoming light wintry


The land around Weidling

Dunked into blue hues.


Hardly anyone on the go

With exception of early

Commuting folk

And for the poet’s walk

Along the Weidlingbach

Cleared from soil and

Imported clay deposits.


This Monday I’m in good time

To be first at the door of the

Local Doc’s rooms

To have my blocked ear

Cleaned out.

It’s now high time.


However I could rightly claim

To be hard of hearing

Especially if I refused to listen

To negativity and sole accusations

Originating from a pal’s disadvantages

Or a spouse’s dissatisfaction

To get her own way.


Life’s an illusion

We are all dying

We are all dead.




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