She

She
was just sitting
there
doing
crosswords
on her phone
waiting for
the assistant
to upgrade
her phone
I saw
her blue bra
cupping her curves
her oblivious
to the stir
in the waiting line

She

I can see
the glow
of her
cigarette

her space
is dark

I see another
small glow
incence?

smells
like rosemarie
in the snow

I wonder
who she
is blessing
today

I wish
it was me

She

Is just siting there

Swaying

In her deck chair

Only her slim ankles

visible

Through

the winter attire

and I wonder

what she is thinking

I wonder

If he is worth

her thoughts

‘n verrassing in Calvinia

in ‘n towerkamer

in Calvinia

het ek

‘n boek

ontdek

die gasvrou

Sonja

het in kleur

en geur

soos haar

gastehuis

verduidelik

die storie

is losweg

gebaseer

op die lewe

van Voog Theron

geskrywe

deur sy dogter

twee hoofstukke

later

los ek

die boek

op my feetjiebed

en pak die pad aan

na Bloemfontein

6 dae later

in Pretoria

betaal ek

vir die boek

dis nie ‘n boek

vir vinnig lees nie

dis ‘n boek

om te waardeer

‘n skrywer

wat met woorde

toor

en jou

in die bladsye

verloor

voorwaar

dis een van die beste boeke

wat ek in Afrikaans

gelees het

She,

is sitting

there

Smoke

whisping

angrily

through

the air

her cigarette

puffing

away

in an opium

sway

I

can smell

from

my balcony

her hair

a frizzy

rain induced

affair

and I

wonder

which

blunder

she’s

regretting

now?

I lower

the binoculars

I could see

her

there

on the balcony

smoking

sipping

a wine

or is it a whisky?

covered

in a fluffy

royal blue

gown

and

the peek

of

a green lace

hugging

her breast

and I wonder

did she

want me to

see it?

I lowered the binoculars.

She

has drawn

the curtains

early

I can see her

undress

I assume

watching

the mirror

her shape

a silhouette

still good

but age

taking

it’s toll

she slides

on the night slip

How

I wish

I can hear

the swish

on her skin

She turns

off

the bed light

I lower

the binoculars

I saw her
standing there
wind blown
hair
what a messy
affair

she was waiting
at the station
for the train
that never
came

it started
to rain
as always
on the fairy-light
plain

she shivers
her lip
quivers

I wish
it was me
she’s
waiting for

#shortstory