At The Butcher Poem by Gert Strydom

Beyond the glass counter she stands
like a child that is stuck
in a shop full of sweets,

do watch the different strips of biltong
do want to get a tasty bit
before the butcher does weigh off some for us,

does cut some steak in thick slices,
do place everything in neat packets
and do give some sausage as a gift to us.

I notice how he does look at us both for moments,
his glasses do reflect dim candlelight,
a waiting kingly meal,

the blade of his sawing machine
does screech sharply while it cuts the biltong into bits
and very cheerful
she does walk out with a few parcels.
© Gert Strydom