Once At The Very Edge (Cavatina Sequence) Poem by Gert Strydom

His thoughts went back to how it once had been,
to the last kiss,
a kind of mockery in her laughter
to times of bliss,
then to the final deceit with a friend
and then now this:
her language and body did her deeds vouch,
her arm hairs did rise at his very touch.

Pain had brought senselessness it was too much,
madness some say,
he then doubted if she had loved him,
a step away
some dazing heights brought him to no return,
a judgement day,
at the very edge he was lingering
as if still waiting there for something.