Lost poetry

I wrote a good poem about loneliness yesterday, but it vanished and I was too lonely to write it again, obviously.

I remember I thought it funny I was listening to 'all this and world war ii' in a campsite surrounded by retiree Germans from Bavaria. Mein Kampf anybody... Did the third reich put them in hotel dressing tables or bed side tables instead of the ubquious gideons bible I always found on my travels?

The candle I was given yesterday splutters. It chokes. But it's peaceful.

I really hate passionately the fifty million German pensioners thrown up around Slatina. I don't know what they think of while patrolling the perimeter of Europe.

Here come mein Floffy pigeon or zwei. They come hoping for a crust. I thought at first that they had some radar but they don't. They have seen humans drop their food so the come to see a human hoping they're all dropping food. They wonder over quite rigid in their manner. The bob of their heads is comical and just about robotic. They are unable to walk without the head movement:  it must be for balance. They're silly birds really. So mucky and unclean in an Austro-Hungarian garden. Oh how the decedent have fallen. Mr Pigeon it is false hope that brings your shabby feathers to my feet.

Autotrans is taking a bus load of Germans back to be gassed on route.