Actually, you're my yardstick, - around which
I weave patterns of my dreams - you are the
sanctuary, a centre from which I calibrate my
mental gyroscope - and you're that brother I
dreamed of having before I had to grow up -
realising brothers were unalike the dreams
woven about them; nothing filled that empty
space until I found you - a true poet I could
adulate and emulate
You are my Dr Serfontein and Capitaine
Carrot; the patrician - Lord Vetinari, of my
own Kingdom, and you are my criterion for
measuring tone and rhythm of poetry; you
taught me how to live in a translation world
by learning to express feelings in different
words - I thank you for being able to carry
burdens of my trust and suspicions when
I confronted you with my fear you disliked
my songs; and more than thanking you
I send you my delight, hoping it melts your
heart & makes you feel how wonderful you
are in fulfilling my dream of being safely in
my own brother's team…
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
“This boy’s gonna make it” – ‘n heildronk op my ma, Annemarie: Dit gaan soms broekskeur om met familie klaar te kom want "Famil...
-
Found a perfect rendition of the Arabic alphabet on the Internet, trying to remember the letter KHa is pronounced with a guttural G... -
Looking for the good, ignoring the sad (anything we dislike), according to Abraham’s (Esther Hick’s) website: “You cannot look at what you ...
No comments:
Post a Comment