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To someone that I loved

I. The odours of jasmine

The odours of jasmine, gardenia
and lavender sneaks in
through the room’s window
and it smells like a perfumery

while rays upon rays march over the bed
climbing over your arms, body and legs
while we lie stretched out
close to each other,

ignoring the sounds from the street,
where cars rush by,
the barks of the dogs
yelping at passing strangers,

only when you wake up,
I draw the curtains shut
as we feel the coldness of twilight
and join in body and soul.

II. On the porch we watch the setting sun

On the porch we watch the setting sun,
while sweet St. Anna wine
sparkles in our glasses
and there’s an intimacy,
a type of tranquillity

in the experience of early evening
while lights shine yellow and white in the distance,
the bottom of the clouds is almost ruby-red,
the black are already darkening some clouds,
while other remains snowy-white

the darkness catches us
with a full yellow moon
and like naughty children
we sneak into our house,
we sneak into our own bedroom

while joy foams like champagne
we are very intimately together
melting into one body
and while your hand later
still caress my back like a butterfly

barely touching here and there
I realise that you are the best part of me,
with your soft sweet lips
barely touching my cheek,
your hot breath against my body.

III. While the night is being born

While the night is being born,
the darkness sneaks into our house,
sneaks into our bedroom,
a sudden breeze begins blowing

far off against the horizon
near to the Magaliesberg mountains
blue-white streaks of thunder
flashes like canon fire

while we can smell
the scent of rain, of wet earth
on the breeze that is blowing stronger,
tossing the small potato trees to and thro

your face is full of terror
in the light of a lightning bolt
falling just outside of the window
and your eyes look big and white

while I cuddle you close to me
and your arms enfold, wrap around me drawing
me still closer and suddenly
the night is chilly

while big drops of rain pound down,
splashing until the rain pours like a torrent
and we find comfort in each other
melting with passion into one another.

IV. The alarm clock wakes me

The alarm clock wakes me
while it’s still twilight
and with the falling rain
the early morning is still dark
as if the night is lingering.

Outside the large jacaranda trees
wave in the storm wind
dropping purple-blue flowers
like a shower of confetti
and the street gleams

while cars drive past splashing
water in a spray
and we have to get ready
for the new day
and quite lazily you stretch out,

drawing me back to bed,
drawing me close to you,
drawing me into your warmth
while our lips, bodies and limbs
intertwine to become one.

V. We agree to meet for lunch

We agree to meet for lunch
in a restaurant just off church street
on a autumn day
on the twentieth of May

and you are smiling,
lifting a glass of red champagne,
when so near that we can feel the wind of it
a tremendous explosion erupts shattering,

shattering the innocent people in Church Street
with deadly sharp pieces of glass and concrete
and I pull you down to the ground
as we take cover behind the small table

where we were eating,
the air is suddenly full
with the sound of people
screaming in pain and terror

and as we rush out,
going into Church Street
and there’s blood and guts everywhere
with terrified, screaming, mutilated
and wounded people

where ever we look
and you cry in relieve of escape,
in sheer terror and shock
and the world has gone amok.

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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