Poetry

Across the road the veldt stretches out wide
where coucals calls to each other and peer around,
there are tree branches scratching against the window
and early in the morning the sun splashes on the floor
when weavers twitter in the branches,
while doves coo in the higher trees,
in the garden there is a red poppy
and I am moved by the scene.

From the kitchen comes the smell of baking rusks
where you stir the dough for bread,
the dog barks so loudly that my ears ring,
around your neck a golden necklace sparkles
with a pendant in the shape of a clover,
you smile as if you can take me along
to memories of a day in the hay
and I am moved by the scene.