Bellville Poem by Gert Strydom

I stand on the dark balcony
while the almost endless rain
sieves down continually

and the streets of Bellville below me shines
where lights gleam everywhere, with cars
that continually drives up and down

and I wonder
how a lightning bolt that decent over the city
would look like

if it would also branch out
like in the Transvaal of my childhood day
before it touches down blue-white
but I only see rain, concrete and glass.