Verse

times are
when words seem
to have lost
their power
to be spoken

they stubbornly refuse
to form
on the same lips
from which they flowed
only a heartbeat
ago

difficult words
they have become

I love you

forgive me

I love you

it travels without trucks
builds quickly
and undoes itself
with ease

its walls are just
my frames of thought
its bed
the conscience of a day
well lived
with few regrets

its gourmet restaurant
mostly beckons somewhere
from across the street
where people meet
keep company
and eat
and share
and talk

some music
makes you feel
so very old and wise
so full of aching joy
and knowledge of the world

it sums up
all your life
in sound

dew drops
brilliant in the morning sun

haunting your memory
beyond recall

walking
the streets of Vienna
with you

venerable palaces
waltzing around St. Stephen’s

beautiful white horses
from the Spanish Riding School
galloping through the Schönbrunn Park

old Sigmund F.
ogling the Viennese Choir Boys

Walter Hoelbling