While the cold wind does shake the windows
the leaves of the trees do vanish
and it's the last part of summer
while I stand shivering in the bedroom,
and you look
out of the bed's cosiness at me,
give a long yawn
and want to drag me back to your heaven
but duties do call inescapable
and within moments I have got to go to work.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem