My father gave me Grimm’s Fairy Tales <br />and copied the words of my favourite <br />Chris-Blignaut song – Oom Boggom in <br />die Boeliebiefblik* – playing the song <br />over and over so I could sing along <br /> <br />My mother flitted about, wearing her <br />designer’s top, happily ensconced in <br />her own life, oblivious to my father’s <br />existence, we sang while she <br />accompanied us <br /> <br />Gerhard gave me a lift on his bike, the <br />sensation of wind and speed is new to me, <br />I can’t begin to describe it, only know I’m <br />addicted; my sister’s red Scooter is fun, <br />but that big blue Suzuki is the real one <br /> <br />My sister showed me the old-age home where <br />she works, her little garden planted with wild- <br />growing flowers, the mall in the poorer part <br />of town abounding with rough people <br />wearing worn faces <br /> <br />Gerhard explained he had the same trouble <br />at work, after an hour’s intense concentration <br />he also ran up and down, sharing the same <br />hyperactive inquisitiveness, as well as my <br />memories of dysfunctional family life… <br /> <br />I came home loaded with books my father <br />bequeathed and the memory of the <br />melody my mother played – I am <br />the tune she created <br />so masterfully… <br /> <br />* Mr Baboon in the “Bully Beef tin”<br /><br />Margaret Alice<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-am-the-tune-she-created-so-masterfully/
