Poetry

Early on a winter morning in Cape Town
the rain is sieving down as it has done for days,
the sky is covered with grey clouds
and inside are you and I
cosily in a hot bed.
 
There are footsteps in the hallway
that sneaks to the room and two cold children
get into the bed with us
and when the big old clock strikes seven o’clock
its time to get up, to get ready
for work and school.