Junie ’16 laat my koud

Constantia se bome waak soos spoke

op ‘n stiknag saterdag wat drome verslind

sy groen belt is organies; flitse van oker
(‘n straatlig dan nie omgewingsgesind?)

 

 

ons dryf geruisloos voort

jou Country Road-trui teen my gepantser

koue bloed; jou ware noord

weet ons albei, sonder om te laster

 

‘n Velcro-hart beklouter my mou

“Waar is jy, geliefde.”

jou voorkop frommel, jou wegkyk voel rou

saam neurie ons maar Fine Music Radio.

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