Dome Of Pearl Poem by Gert Strydom

One summer day we went
with me to Paarl mountain
which glistens white
in the rainy winter season
like a huge pearl

Your hair tied in a French plate
swished to and thro
were you walked
on the narrow track
up the slope in front of me.

I could see every muscle
moving of your delicate bottom
and embraced you from behind
while we stopped to catch some breathe.

Your sweat and perfume
was very alluring
and we were thirsty
and drank some Coke
before continuing the walk up

on that cream coloured
domed granite hill
looking somewhat like
ice cream without a cone
in huge dimensions.

We went right up to the white
height indicating beacon
with a deep abyss under us
and the wind rustling
through your fringe and my hair,
the sun burning down ferociously

and breathtaking the whole Franschoek Valley
stretched patched green, yellow and brown
with grape orchards up to Simonsberg
which lay somewhat flat in the distance
with clouds shrouding its peak
and your felt somewhat dizzy.

[Reference: Paarl meaning pearl.]