I could be strolling on a river bank,
or sitting in a managed park.
I could be walking on a saltbush plain,
or where soil is parched and stark.
I could be climbing Perry sand hills;
be shaded by a Wilga tree.
I will never be there on my own -
we’re still in contact; you and me.
I could be gazing at a rainbow arc,
or clouds billowing to rain.
I could witness lightning and thunder;
stroll on a sun drenched plain.
I could see a stumpy tail upon the tar;
a mob of grazing kangaroo.
I will never be there on my own -
we’re still in contact; you and me.
I will never be there on my own -
we’re still in contact; you and me.
We talk about adventure that we had -
it seems I’m talking to nobody.
Categories:
wilga, bereavement, memory,
Form: Rhyme