The Hotel Room Poem by Gert Strydom

The hotel room is eight levels up
and a interesting place
to find some intimacy,
to be alone, two people together
and the concierge carries out cases
touches his hat and leaves
and outside a battalion of umbrellas
are marching past
minutely small like play dolls
braving the wet weather
and your Chanel perfume fills my head,
your smile goes right into my heart
and you are very pretty
and I am utterly lucky to have you
as a darling, companion and friend.