Gert Strydom
My words keep on wandering
When I bring you a flower
from our garden,
then you do smile radiating like the sun,
while for moments
you are astounded by the beauty
and you do draw a picture for me
where you lie naked
stretched out in the sheets
and I wish that I could somehow
catch your beauty in a verse,
your hair that hangs in locks,
your smile that goes through all of my barricades
but my words are only wandering around
as if they have got nowhere to go.
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