Song Of Songs Poem by Gert Strydom

It’s early morning
and the sun hangs like a large orange
Just above the hillocks

Three teenage girls
undress at the clear water
of a Brooklet.

The are shy for others,
but like to bathe together and walk
with bare feet into the rocky little stream.

Everyone of them is still young and pure
and splash and frolic while the sun
shines hotter and brighter.

The water is still cold
and their nipples are hard and black
on their round breasts.

While they wash each other
it sparkles shiny and rows of drops
are on their brown skins

The water runs of in little streams
down arms, stomachs, hips and thighs
and they stand and talk and laugh.

Something quivers in the reeds where is grows in a thicket
deep into the stream and they see
a dark green water monitor going into the water.

They run screaming and stark naked
and try without any clothes, to get direction
to the shacks of the village where they stay.