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Berlin, City of Espionage;
split by a wall, divided into four
only approached from the west
by road, rail, and air corridor.
Still carrying traces of the Berlin
of Isherwood’s thirties days
so very cosmopolitan still
with its big Capital City ways.

A certain grand style and 
a sort of debauched air
contrasts of the strip clubs with
the Eternal Flame burning there,
not to be extinguished 
until that someday when 
the wall would be breached 
and the Country be one again.

The delights there on offer
so very tempting and nice
but, like so many offerings
each to be had for a price.
And those days with maybe 
a sort of panic in the air,
a questioning of how long
the Powers would be there.

That growing spat over Cuba
affecting the Cold War
with a very real threat it
couldn’t be cold anymore.
And Berlin the fabled city,
a city somewhat of the night,
metaphorically girded its loins
prepared for any coming fight.

City of splendour and history,
with its seven hundred year past,
confident whatever the result 
it would be there at the last.
And the pleasures of the city
whatever any coming strife
helped ease our tensions
and added spice to my young life.

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