Two Lives Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

Each day he drilled
platoons of figures on a page.

She, bright-eyed, watched and thrilled
to songs of love-birds in a cage.

From mistress to wife she came
into the mansion of a name

and brought elegance and loveliness
to their youthful game.

Each day he drilled
platoons of figures on a page

drawing the constellations down
into the circumference of a silver coin

and calculated difference
to the third or nearest decimal.

And day and night and night and day
went by, went by, and still
her passions cast their spell,
and love was a game to play

as their hearts grew older, till
no figures could tell,

not even to the third
or nearest decimal,

how, close in cold
and draughty words

of their slow age,
two playful strangers

could prolong the spell.