Capetonian winters are orange at night.
When I wake up in the middle
Of an unsettling dream.
Capetonian winters seem orange at night.
For weeks now I counted the stars
From my bed’s safest spot.
Yet the wind’s disguised as thunder these days
And it’s the city lights, I think,
All mingling with the mist,
Which make Capetonian winters be orange
At night, When I make space for you,
In my bed’s safest spot.