I notice her in Sandton City and she is slender and lean,
very beautiful, do scarcely use makeup,
with the curves that do catch every male eye
with a crocodile-leather handbag that hangs on her arm,
she hides behind sunglasses where she waits on a lift
but smiles back at me as if she is yearning for conversation,
a three-carat diamond shines on her finger
but she agrees to have a cup of coffee with me.
She tells about how lonely her life is, that money does not bring happiness,
and she wants to talk her heart out and I am a brain wave,
I tell her that the pleasure, which she seeks, is meaningless
that it will do nothing to her life and the continual missing.
There I have got a blonde in Levi jeans and a too small T-shirt that is crying,
who wants to have a different kind of life.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem