My Alphington Home

Today, a nodded hello.

All things have passed since then,
and my hands are older moving across this page.

The gumnut you nestled is gone,
and the web turned to ashes and dust.

Do you remember my longing,
and how I slept at your feet,
knowing you knew what I didn’t but would?

I see Woman in the mirror now.

When I close my eyes I feel you,
and when I open them
my fingers around the pen
might well be your gnarly roots, resting gently.

Dedicated to Peter, and to radical authenticity.


Rex Avenue Alphington

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