Montreux 2012 205

Snow-capped mountains

And spring flowers trim the lake.

You are not alone


As you pay homage

To a love we’ve both kept warm,

Across time and space.


As you re-trace paths

We once walked together,

I am there with you.


Your joy is mine too

When your memory recalls

Great times we shared.


Just like the seasons

Straddle beneath the bright sun

Our souls do the same.


Spring transcends Winter

Each time I see you again.




Rose tinted memories,

your footsteps everywhere.

Each pathway I walked

with a phantom escort.


I tried to shake you off

but you steadily followed me.

In my disguise, I tried to hide,

yet still, you discovered me.


Now I see you everywhere;

converging the seasons

of a love which has sprouted,

slowly simmered, then burned


into memories’ rose-tinted love.

My Valentine Gift

The past few days have been a roller coaster of fun that I’ve enjoyed with my special blogger friends, T. Wayne  from A Joyful Process and Lady G  from seekthebestblog  spreading love and hoping that those who participated all had a great time along with us.

It’s not too late to check out each of our blogs to look for that special song that you might want to use for a special occasion with your loved ones. In addition we’re excited that other bloggers joined in and made the circle of love even bigger.

Today though, I want to pay special tribute to my daughter who is celebrating her 22nd birthday . I couldn’t have asked for a greater Valentine gift which gives us reason to share the love everyday. 1995, the year that she was born, was also the beginning of what we called our Born Free Generation. She was born a year after our first democratically elected  black President was sworn in – the famous,nobel prize winning giant most of you will know as President Nelson Mandela. Being born free meant that she has many freedoms which I didn’t enjoy while growing up. Liberties which we now take for granted like frequenting the same beaches, movies,living and marrying across colour lines and most importantly having a vote.

Archive Photos of Nelson Mandela
Our late President Mandela casting his first vote in 1994

So this tribute is an expression of my gratitude not only for my special Valentine gift but also to my baby being born free. Of course we are never totally free but I’m proud that she has not had to carry the baggage of our past but rather, contribute positively to the future. Since music is the food of life in our household, I will let the music speak. Her favourite song as a child was Bill Wither’s Lovely Day:

Of course she has a mind of her own and these are now her favourite songs:

                        HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE!!!

Clearly, her choice of music is different from mine, but we have this one in common:

A collaboration between our very own DJ Black Coffee and Alicia Keys

There is no passion to be found playing small – in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living. Nelson `Mandela


Thrown from your routine–

Where each sunrise brings purpose,

Suddenly alone


I think of you


As bags are packed–

Traffic exodus of crowds,

Silence now too loud


I think of you



Behind tears of loneliness,

Festive observer


I think of you


Who for the first time–

Must sleep on that double bed,

You always shared


I think of you


Hoping and praying–

That you will dress in seasons,

Where time comes to pass


I think of you


See your smiling face–

As you slowly realize,

I’m thinking of you


He is always thinking of you too.




rain drizzle


is the soft drizzle, that mists up

my window pane – enveloping

and comforting –as a mother

to her newborn child.



when roles are reversed–

wanting, to take foetal position

for yourself – to be cuddled and nursed,

still oblivious to the world of heartache.



when Autumn leaves loiter about,

wanting, retrieval of the buds of Spring,

retracing the steps of your youth,

wandering– what you would do differently.



though it may seem– rain will come

as it chooses, soft drizzle or pelting hard!

Is it in your stars, the choice or the measure–

or do you just choose to dance in the rain…


wherever and whenever it comes …













Cancun: Chevvy8

The realization-

Wait for the tide to roll in

Listen to its cyclical music


If you fathom its silence

You’ll hear its orchestra rush in


With nourishing food for your soul



grey sky 3

Was it it just yesterday

when you snuck through my window

seeping warmth on a frail Winter’s day?

A beaming sun, you smiled just for me,

until I mellowed like Cabernet Sauvignon.


Now I see the leaves begin to wrinkle,

spots of old age confuse the image I have

of your smooth gentle strokes,

when you loved with abandon and abundance.

Which season is this? I fear I forget.


You’ve long disappeared behind grey haired clouds.

Your failing eyesight can no longer trace my face.

A melancholic withering light is all that I see

as seasons change guard right in front of me.

I close the curtains of my window, once bare.


A gust of wind steals into my room. Your ghost

now brings an artificial light. Yet still I remember

steamy hot Summer kisses with the promise of

soaking wet rain as its fragrance hovered in the air,

days when your light won the race against time

and your hours and minutes were mine.


But now I’m no longer so sure about my memory.

The seasons changed while I was lost in my reverie.



I thought I had you in the palm of my hand

Captivated by my scintillating charm

Wrapped tightly on the wrist of my arm

Until I woke up to the sound of the alarm


Where did you go when I was asleep?

Lately you have taken to the tracks

Racing wildly like hunting wolves in packs

Slipping through the fissures and the cracks


Moving in the shadows, conspiring with the sun

Contracting my nights, stretching through my days

Fooling me, blinding my sight in contrived ways

Confusing my colors with luminescent greys


Was it just a dream or did I see you fleetingly?

So suddenly, you conjure your magic tricks on me

I feel your temperature drop by a fractional degree

A subtle change, the first leaf falls from the tree.


Mistakenly, I thought I had you enraptured

Instead I am the victim that time has captured.