Shelly Point

Where seagulls prey on hastiness
And Time itself disjoints,
Where making plans is foolishness,
That there is Shelly Point.

Just beyond the Cederburg,
Far beyond dismay,
Deadlines hold no pow’r here,
In St. Helena Bay.

A red sun rises and sets again
With not much in between,
Save the scatterings and gatherings
Of creatures rarely seen.

A fynbos sea meets the ocean blue
At a beach full of shells,
All of them, skeletons true
All with a story to tell.

Gleaming houses rise from the ground
Each like a white church
Of Relaxation newly-found;
Their Eucharist: the earth.

A lighthouse blinks its shining eye
As deputy to The Moon,
Lest sleepy sailors go awry
And sail on to their doom.

Where Today is Tomorrow’s twin,
Different but the same;
If you never get to visit
That there, would be a shame.

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