The Southeast Wind Howls Poem by Gert Strydom

The southeast wind howls while it's livid,
tossing whatever it can get up and down
and Table Mountain slowly withdraws
into fog and the never ceasing rain.

There is loneliness to the old man,
who tries to light a cigarette
under the shelter of a shop,
where his lighter suddenly flares up.

Far too many days and nights
have passed him without meaning
and tonight he might eat
in a grand posh hotel,

might later return to his mansion on the hill
with a young lovely living girl,
but he yearns for much more,
for someone, for something

that will let him know that he is truly living
he flings the smoked cigarette away
and when he gets into his German car,
his thoughts are still far from him.