Good Night Vienna

Since the entire weekend the pains

Of coughing got worse and neither

Whisky nor painkillers worked.

Struggling through the night

The morning broke

The poet pushed himself up

To reach the rooms of Dr W

At opening time.

Twice along the frozen brook

He had to stop and hold on to

His blue crutch

Avoid falling down along the

Short way

That seemed to be three times

Its usual length.

The clock tower stroked 6:30 am

And today even Mrs M was

Arriving late.

Apologizing due to this inclement

Siberian cold

That swept across Weidling

Over night.

Already two patients were ahead

But the poet had to thaw up and

Control his chills meanwhile.

Doc W handed him a prescription

And the poet was straight back

To his home

Where B offered her help to get

The medicine for him.

He took to bed and slept until

B arrived

Took the medicine

Went back to bed and slept.

Waking and sleeping for another day

Slowly drove the Australian cough

Out of the poet’s lungs

But it’s a tough and slow process.

Good night Vienna.

Do well my friends!




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