Things At A Time Were Simple Poem by Gert Strydom

Things at a time were simple, small things are full of danger
everywhere I walk into your things, as if you are here
while time passes much too slowly,
your things fill the whole garage
and I wonder when a relationship ends?

Outside children ride past on bicycles and life goes on
and everything feels muddled,
when the church bell in the distance rings off the time,
things at a time were simple.

How our relationship ended is disputable
but it remains a fact that I have got to accept,
I am wet with sweat while I am hitting of a tennis ball,
standing ready for the next one,
almost staring at the women with the short skirt,
things at a time were simple.