I used to play my song all alone,
dreaming of becoming a melody:
most people brought out the
piccolo or pizzicato in me, but
I dreamed of being a chord in
b-minor, then a long ago friend
wearing jeans on Muizenberg
beach, wading in, getting wet
Driving around Chapman’s Peak,
appeared on the Internet, and
suddenly I saw my themes in
her writing, patterns I’m trying
to trace already explained in
her words - what a surprise
to discover she speaks the
words I’m trying to think
It is a privilege to meet again
and know – she understands…
[For my friend Ronel O’Reilly]
27 April 2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem