Sitting on the steps in front of Karlskirche
Staring at the water, 8cm away from me.
I see the reflection of its magnificence, mocking me.
The familiar tune of the tango on the banjo rushes to my ears
Even though, not knowing the source,
Its passion burning from within.

The glaring sun shoots its rays upon the water
and I notice a bottle, bottle cap, coke tab and a penny.
They'd do anything to keep their dreams alive.

The couples next to me say their sweet nothings.
The individual sleeps or read.

The dragonflies flutter their wings furiously
and mate above the water
while the folks watch their children at play

Poor Karlskirche, hardly noticed at all.
Not for its beauty and neither its history.
It has become but an accessory.

Even though the day seemed bright and cheery,
i felt the cold loneliness fall upon him.

The bell rings and some notice for a moment.
It is calling out to the people.
"Look at me! Look at this piece of Art!"
But the people are buried in their self-centred world.

The clarinettist basks in the shade,
playing the saddest tune for Karlskirche.

-True Recount-