Tshwala.(Poem)

 
TSHWALA 
 
   It bore no resemblance 
   To the amber Castle 
   My father used to drink 
   Before going on to scotch; 
   Plopping ice into crystal tumblers 
   Cleaned and prepared by Dabson 
   The cook boy: 
   Delivered diligently 
   As soon as he heard 
   The car's hooter 
   And the gate 
   Squeak open obsequiously. 
   Town, the garden boy, 
   Twenty something old 
   And younger than Dabson 
   By twenty five 
   Locked the working day out 
   With wire over a gate-post 
   And a bow to the baas. 
   The day done 
   Retired to the back step 
   For a tin of tea and a doorstep 
   Of white bread and jam 
 
   We ...