Missing

In the grip of Sunday afternoon

There is a hole inside

Where something has been taken away

A place of loneliness

With no end

No name or number

Rainbow Collector

When the storm breaks

We shiver, and wait

For the rainbow

Physics becomes nature

A language of alchemy

Perfect arc, a piece of art

What lies at the end?

Scissors, shells, porcelain doll legs

Scales, fossils

Whistles

 Crystals

More of a price than the pot of gold

Room of Lost Memories

Somewhere

Underneath a floorboard

Or on a dusty top shelve

There is a key

To unlock

And liberate

For  years the veil was drawn over here

A sugarplum fairy hides

The memories in that room

Child On Farm

A child solitaire

A chemical reduction of memories

With all the loneliness

The isolation, the anguish

A trick of the love

And plaster on the walls

And light

There are no more people in this house

Only ghosts of the household

Do they miss us?

A spectral hamster, a puppy

My sister

Wandering

Trying to reach home.

Piano Lessons

A winter evening

Dry grass as the cold comes

Nervous lip biting

Piano lessons turn after each other

The Braids Road house

Confusing children songs, discordant chords

Nile biting to get home

For Sonkring

Chips in the living room

The beauty of a life we know so well

Kinders  van Goud makes us

More shiny,

Truly a glass bubble of a future

In Pretoria,  and rights of destiny

More than the world of our tennis court

And school tomorrow

Strawberry Pops Fairy

Like this

Tippy toes

She runs around the house

One long afternoon

A dress worn on her head

A river of clothed long hair

Sprinkling pink pops

Over floors and tables

Singing

Gem Stone Sorcerer

Blackened coal in the night
you take long fingers and work
through the night
behind our cupboards
underneath our beds
a twisted Santa Claus
making the shining stones
bright in the night
falling like fire
to our dreams