There’s a time that the sun sets
There’s a time
that the sun sets
and it’s also
how life goes.
My dad read the last time
the poem that let the hairs
on my arms raise
of a horse
with a rider without a head
like only he can
and when I was naughty
the man with the hat and jacket came
and never again
and later I find it hanging
in his wardrobe.
Red-brown lumps fall on a wooden chest
and what does a toddler know
of final farewell,
except that the sun sets
over the hillock
on the other side of the place
where he lies.
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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