RED

Took off at first like

A lame duck

But fortunately we still

Have fresh water supply.

Then – greatest one of

Many mornings

The poet’s spouse was in

A good mood

Having absolved her morn’

Jog around green Weidling

Does her a world of good.

The poet raised his arms

And exercised: holding his

Ink pen

At boesner’s art-café

Where he acquired a reasonably

Priced unruled notebook:

Talens from Holland in scarlet

RED.

Thanks to boesner the artist

ZG has a chance to survive

In his world he’d created

Which he opens-up to friends

And interested parties.

Like the young woman who

Was interested in his work

He had just selected decorative

Colourful photo paper for

Passe-partouts to stage an

Artistic presentation.

In the adjoining pub he finds

Hortobagyi palacsinta –

Pancakes a la Hortobagy.

Mhhh.

He can’t resist ordering this

Dish he had tasted last time

As a visiting student to Hungary.

Sixty years ago.

May I tell you? The poet said

It tasted super

Washed down with a glass of

Blaufränkisch-red.

MHH.

RED.DER

zoltanzelan

ZJG-Poetry’20.

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