Like a sketch of black upon white
a moment is put on paper in the dim evening light
but that you do really love me
of that act no single sketch can be
to really note such a concept down.
Hollow all words do seem although they are my own
and you do truly know how I do feel about you,
that every word and poem to you is true,
that no words can catch the feelings, emotions as they are
not even the moments that lingers, as words are inadequate by far,
and invisible like the wind that pass with its waves high above
no one can find the real words for true and sincere love:
the surge ebbs and time moves on and still further on,
through the years our love remains although moments are gone
and people do only witness the signs of a woman and man
of a couple that hope, believe and know that love can.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem