there’s a bright patch of green
on the Table’s lap
but I cannot see the sun
from where I sit
only the sun’s protruding rays
between the mountain peak
and the shoulder peak
on my balcony patiently watching
for the flying Xhosa girl
who lives down the road
to pass by, look my way, smile,
and wave a hand…
maybe this time I might convince her
to slow down a bit, and tell me a name…
Did u manage to convince Her or u are still afraid welll Dont be! ! ! ! ! Yahhh nice poem! ! ! Ne
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lovely poem. i read your poem in the morning while sipping down a cup of black coffee. you took me from my present state to the day you met the flying xhosa girl, feels like i was there.