Living In A World Of Our Own Poem by Gert Strydom

How long ago has it been, since the day
that you wore a red dress
outside that glass citadel
where the hopes and dreams of nations
are lost in?

It somehow made you look so utterly young,
so alive and the wind made your blonde hair
look wild, giving you an untamed look
at the small fountain of the United Nations

the sun was so very bright,
that even the sunglasses
wasn’t enough to dim the light

and the boats sailing on the river,
was somewhat romantic
if you can find that kind of thing
anywhere in that busy America
with cars shattering the peace,
travelling by at speed

and it had been a really great day
with us living in a world of our own.