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We all have beginnings somewhere, a place where the soul first took root and drew its history, fixed a compass point, a pin in a map to mark its home. For me it was here where the horizon began in a haze of mangrove trees and broad tidal flats and boats bellied in mud when the sea sucked back the river leaving its gums grinning under a warm sun. It was here where my ancestors landed more than a century and a half ago. Now manicured to prime real estate, the tides keep to an orderly flow within grassy banks overseen by multi million dollar views. The mangrove forests have gone, the swamps sanitised to lawn. I look across the glistening reaches of a man made lake to where the slow drift of sailboats scrape the bottom of an evening sky. All seems out of place, not home and yet I mull as to whether there is any other beyond this one, beyond the little sailing boats and the barking dog nearby.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 5/16/2025 6:46:00 AM
This wonderful poem really resonated with me Paul…..l grew up in a small rural coastal holiday shack suburb in Perth…..we bought the house when my mum downsized …it was lovely, looking out the windows it was greenery, it was quiet, the beach never fully populated…it was untouched….now its a metropolis the place to be….change aplenty! (It didn't take me long…Im back ha! Debx
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Paul Willason
Date: 5/17/2025 6:04:00 AM
So pleased you're back....and that the poem spoke to your own experiences. My childhood was spent exploring the tidal reaches of the Port River in Adelaide...thick mud and mangroves, delightful. Take care my friend...
Date: 5/15/2025 6:24:00 AM
"Swamps sanitized to lawn" Nature despoiled along with the mangroves that got in man's way. I liked your line of boats being bellied in mud. Flares from your pen, Paul.
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Paul Willason
Date: 5/16/2025 5:57:00 AM
Always like to have a line that jumps out a bit...rather fortunate that sometimes they just pop into this old head of mine. Many thanks Lin for reading and sending yr kind words. Valued. Paul

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