(for Annelize)
Long ago you did put your love into the soil of my heart
my dark-head, my sun-eyed woman
and still the great and sometimes hurting recollection do remain
as for many years I did tend this small garden,
did measure others to your image,
sometimes did cling to the lost dreams
and now you are once more a perhaps, a maybe,
which may again come to stature and you may trust me again
to hold onto you in this life
and outside the yellow-weaver does twitter the morning red,
do tell me secret things about the most beautiful girl,
the doves peep and coo right through the night
and the rain does fall day upon day softly
where for years I am longing my heart into bits.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem