Blown a Bit Out of Myself
The cloudscape changes
and floods excited crowds of sunlight
on a patch of playful sea,
turning fat green hills
into toyful bumping buses.
The wind turns her back,
shows me her cold white legs,
striding away.
The land is blackgreen,
the sky is dark coffee;
there is no exit sign.
She rips open the sky, the wind,
with a naughty laugh,
she breathes sea sand through my hair.
I do love you after all, she sings softly;
old apricot flavoured philosopher,
you ancient jingly bag of thoughts.
I love you
even though I cannot take you
yet
Copyright © De Waal Venter | Year Posted 2008
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