Transvaal

Transvaal (love story) South Africa! I remember her well. She came to my shores a summer day, a voluptuous brunette, but I’m no longer sure if she had green eyes. She was bright, had studied insects, but hated spiders, and she knew who was the president of USA. A tough girl who could look after herself, I liked that. A perfect match, but why did she have to be so young? September had met May, no future in that. I was in love but for her I was perhaps a mere a summer flirt. I avoided her romanced a woman nearer my age. That made her angry but I had the heartache. She left, when autumn leaves began to fall, my sweet South African girl. My dream was that she and I should cross the Argentinean and see many sunrises in our sleeping bag. What a fool was, I could have asked her, but self confidence is not my game, she might have said yes.