With love from Potchefstroom
To be honest he wasn’t doing anything.
Siting there next to me,
holding the universe together.
He wasn’t much of a rich boy.
He didn’t even have a job,
and still gave me all my heart ever desired.
He wasn’t a saint,
In fact the alcohol always tasted good to him,
and he still taught me to pray in church.
He wasn’t the smartest.
No desire to read a book,
Yet he gave me ambition.
To be honest I never even did anything.
Just sitting there right next to him,
With a completed world.