In the veld of play
How we miss
the places we played....
How we miss the river
flowing strong
through Henley-on-Klip
where we dived and fished
and dared to dare
How we miss the maize
waving in the fields
where we rode our horses
under Eucalyptus trees
over logs and laughter and lazy clay
How we miss the rocky outcrops
near our farm gates
where the eagles fly
and male baboons watch their kingdom
as we silently walk by in single file
How we miss the shallow lake
that formed after the thunder, lightning and showers of rain
where we held tight onto the flying fox
and splashed with meaning into the mud below
where we chose sides as we cannon balled mud
How we miss the trees we climbed
that became our ships on stormy ocean rides
where we saw little birds born in safety net nests
and from where we watched our neighbourhood adults wrestle and withstand
where we built our tree huts and sheltered our friendships
How we miss
the veld places we played....
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