One day at a waterfall

I went to a waterfall
in the drakensberg mountains
on a sunny day
and there was something,
in the sound of the pouring water.

a Song was cast in the water,
but the words were gone
and just the thundering tune was left.

For a time I listened to the rushing sound
and the rhythm,
went deep into my heart.

Was this how David Livingstone felt,
when he stood at the Victoria Falls
and the thundering smoke
opened before his eyes.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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