i try to read in the open ward,

the fog in my brain makes it difficult,

but still i borrow poe


after a few pages

i close the book of short stories


in the library i find

gulliver’s travels

and sink into it


the dwarves and giants

do not disturb me as much

as the immortals

doomed to age forever,

as they lose their loved ones,

          their memories,

               their possessions,

and have to beg the villagers for money


i’m reading in the common room

next to an elderly lady,

who has not said a word

since she arrived a few weeks ago


i take a walk one evening


the same lady stops me at the entrance

and smiles

i’ve been cured, you know,

i’m fresh as a whistle


i congratulate her sincerely


just as i am about to step inside

she tugs my sleeve

          you wouldn’t maybe have a euro?

AuthorPino Pograjc
2023-10-01T11:57:19+00:00 September 9th, 2023|Categories: Poetry, Literature, Blesok no. 151|Comments Off on Poems