ONE NIGHT IN GRABOUW

In benign Grabouw, where apples grow;
far as i can recall,
there is no crime at any given time;
no violence at all.

Nestled in the hollow, it's hard to swallow,
what has happened there;
a night on the town, brought a man down,
a few drinks to ease the care.

The country silently sleeps, my soul quietly weeps,
for someone I did'nt know,
beaten to death in a cell, trapped in a living hell;
waiting for the final blow.

He came to construct, not to obstruct.
In his home far away,
there is his wife, he was her life,
which is now in disarray.

Comments

Margaret said…
Nice blog! Surfed here from the blog catalog.

*wave*
November 10, 2007 at 6:55 PM
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