if my bed would be more comfy –

muses the poet –

i probably wouldn’t be forced

to get up/ so it has a good side

to get going at 80 plus!/ besides

mrs b/ up at the crack of dawn

prepares her hair on the green

leather couch for the day

listening to a mozart symphony

pleasantly tuned down for not

waking me up too harshly.

fine. pyjamas are a bit humid –

it’s the moist air that clings to

the garments/ keeps the poet

alive with the daily dose of

dripirrigating his creative plant.

he might decline in his overall

body functions somewhat

but his mind is still alert.

now then/ change clothes

warm water to face and hands

get on with a breaky –

three minute soft egg/ kornspitz

buttered and add orange jam

hm! excellent!

check out the websites

write another journal poem for

his loyal readers across the seas

the continents

and for personal fun.




One thought on “fun

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