The Last Journey Poem by Gert Strydom

(for Minette)

Like a small gazelle
you walked next to me
did far too easily blush

and on that holiday through Zimbabwe
you were picture beautiful
with a straw hat covering your blonde hair,
your eyes at times drawn fine against the bright sun.

At the hotel we ordered champagne
and you loved trout
while I did eat some stake
and we were free, did forget the worries of life.

Maybe too easily we thought that our journey
would last forever, that no farewell would come.

© Gert Strydom