Thursday, October 31, 2013


The wife who sure likes to fake.
Or the wife with the long headache.
And the wife with the brood
who is no longer in the mood.
I have lived with girls.
We have shared our worlds.
Together have been out of them
(finding time in bed to spend) !
Give me the girl with a career
now my second half of life is here.
Kids grown up? Had kids never?
Want to spend some time together?!

Sail the seven seas
or the ocean of space even,
but shall you come-across
the sought seventh-heaven?
All shades of blue may only bring
you back home. Look deep-within.

We know of beginnings,
we know of ends,
it's the idea of eternity
we cannot comprehend.

Circular are the seasons,
cyclic the life of men.
The earth spins round the sun.
The tides lower and rise again.

Master of all he surveys
the ram on the hill in the sun's rays.
To gold is turned his fleece
while white as gaggling geese
is the flock that on the hillside strays.
Honk they do not, but they baa
and from the ram won't wander far.
As with chickens and their cock,
to the sheep the ram's their rock,
their lord who, under the sun-star
that smiles on the valley, gleams.
It's only tiny ants do have shiny-queens.

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