Gert Strydom

Then I longed back to my own place

(after A. G. Visser)

I was looking at the wide ocean
while standing for moments on Table Mountain,
I saw seagulls swarm under in the bay,
when the Southeaster blew everything into a jumble;
then I longed back to my own place,
to my home at the Sugar-bush-hillocks.

At the Strand I wanted to dream on my own
when a mishmash of people suddenly streamed around me
bolstering from busses, swimming in their underwear,
with one screaming deafening with a shrill voice;
then I longed back to my own place,
to my home at the Sugar-bush-hillocks.

At Clifton the girls were topless
they were coaxing and I wanted to blush,
at Sea Point lights flared into the night
but in Gauteng one was waiting on me;
then I longed back to my own place,
to my home at the Sugar-bush-hillocks.

[Reference: “Waar ou Heidelberg hang aan die Suikerbosrand” (Where old Heidelberg on the Sugar-bush-hills) by A. G. Visser.]

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