Poetry

Gert Strydom


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5 december 2015

At dusk

I

Memories of the past day do flood my mind
and my whole world has changed from what it was before.
I see a movement at the window’s blind,
hear you walk on the wooden floor past the door
but thought struck pass the world rushes on
and the setting sun says that the day is gone.

II

At twilight my study is a peaceful place
and you walk in with a bright smile on your face
and the tranquillity is no longer mine
but outside nature is at rest as if touched by the divine
and inside it’s only you and I
while the first stars do touch a pitch black sky.






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