The Sonnet Of Groenklooof Caves Poem by Christian Muller

In summer travelled we to Groenkloof caves.
I do confess. It wasn't caves that filled my mind
That day. But rather love that came in waves
Of crashing joy. A love that makes one blind.
I cared not for the thirsty field of grass
That drank our steps as we did rise. I dared
Not split my love among the distant heirs
Of your fair gaze. But now with age the farce
Of youthful love does pale to what we found.
What passed between us I can scarce recall.
No idle love could fight the ancient sound
Of whispers carved within that pagan hall.
Which took a part of us as sacrifice
To feed some long-forgotten paradise.