So Many Times I Have Dwelt In A Place Poem by Gert Strydom

(to Minette)

So many times I have dwelt in a place
where graves are in neat rows of black granite stone
and have been the lonely one
who is trying to trace some memories like
the last impressions on your face
but maybe eternally how life had been

but you are gone
and day-by-day,
even moment-by-moment this life moves on
from your last embrace
and I only survive by grace

while the breeze whispers in the Cyprus trees
and you are now so distant,
almost as if you have never been
as the bright girl with sky blue eyes and hair of gold
and next to your grave a wild flower blossoms with circling bees;
and it's the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen
while with brittle leave upon brittle leave I see it unfold.

© Gert Strydom