|Posted by jan oskar hansen on June 18, 2010 at 8:28 AM|
Transvaal (love story)
South Africa! I remember her well. She came to my shores
a summer day, a voluptuous brunette, but I’m no longer sure
if she had green eyes. She was bright, had studied insects,
but hated spiders, and she knew who was the president of
USA. A tough girl who could look after herself, I liked that.
A perfect match, but why did she have to be so young?
September had met May, no future in that. I was in love but
for her I was perhaps a mere a summer flirt. I avoided her
romanced a woman nearer my age. That made her angry
but I had the heartache. She left, when autumn leaves began
to fall, my sweet South African girl. My dream was that she
and I should cross the Argentinean and see many sunrises
in our sleeping bag. What a fool was, I could have asked her,
but self confidence is not my game, she might have said yes.