Table Mountain glows on the edge of sight
As turquoise sea reflects cool afternoon light.
Dogs fetch balls for kids who play
And a windsurfer drifts in at dying day.
Picnic baskets open, drinks spill down
Peace and contentment in this seaside town.
A drive back home for supper that waits
Wife and kids hop out to open the gate.
Whites of eyes and spittle flies
Waved knife and pointed gun
Pistol-whipped, beaten for the fun
A shot rings out, a life is snuffed
In a beautiful country that fuels my disgust
Peter Hollard
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