Out of the fog
its peaks rose
from ancient times
and it’s flat top
showed man land
at the southern tip of Africa.
How many couples
did its cable cars carry
that asks each other
to wed.
When the sun sets
and drops into the sea
and the light wind
plays through your hair
from above
you can almost
look into eternity
and also know
how picture perfect
the mother city looks.
Gert Strydom
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-table-mountain/
