When Language Is Ripped From My Lips [1] Poem by Gert Strydom

When Language Is Ripped From My Lips [1]



When language is ripped from my lips,
when words
are loosing their meaning
and cannot roar anymore

like the gathering storm clouds
filled with thunder,
when a cup of coffee or tea
says much more
to restore peace and tranquillity

than the fabric of words
and a tear, can be wiped away
by a embrace
in a kind of selfless grace,
then I wonder at the magic of love.

Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom

Johannesburg, South Africa
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