Diana van den Berg

(4 November 1945 / Durban, South Africa)

Drawn


She dived almost soundlessly
into the mountain pool
in the cool secret grotto
with its high granite rock walls
protecting her
in greys and sparkling greens,
balm after the heat
of the blazing sun.
She swam with silvered strokes
hardly parting the water
to the trysting place
behind the echoing waterfall
and felt his words
tumble over her
in sonnets
and lyrical odes
and ballads
and love letters.
She lifted her face up into them
in ecstasy
and read them
a thousand times
and let them stream
down her body,
imagining his gentle, electrifying touch
on her shoulder,
but
he turned her around softly
and drew her close
and she found
the dream
was real.

Submitted: Tuesday, August 06, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, August 06, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

(11 October 2012)

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