Flight Poem by Gert Strydom

When the buildings
of Johannesburg's metropolis
do disappear in the distance
while the Boeing is catching speed,

the sun is busy setting
and everywhere there are lights
that burns below in the twilight

and in the distance the sun
is not any bigger than my thumb
where it is hanging over the clouds

and somewhere it does reflect on a big dam
with its pretty orange colour
and it reminds me of times

where at the Vaal Dam as children we were fishing,
how our lines did hang in the water
while everything was silent and tranquil
and that social event fades away
into the adult world.