– Somewhere in a park in St Petersburg, Russia
We are all sitting around
Peter the Great.
At his feet memorial flowers still
holding on to its faded glory.
Folk songs braid with bird song
up in the tree tops.
The children carousel the heavy bronze,
even the sailors loosen their upper buttons.
Peter still proudly commands the
heavy putty grey ships,
anchored in front of his metal gaze.
The fleet stares back at the commotion
and sigh for a job well done.
we sing without pretense
we play without inhibitions
we enjoy the sun without being vain
Later as the accordion notes and the collective voices
ebb and clash with birds, footsteps and breeze –
the soldiers return unwillingly to their bunks.
by Anja Marais
