A Poem for Phil

Landscapes of the past; white dunes, crystal beaches
The golden thread of the horizon
This place of my childhood forever tied to you

Days in your asymmetrical house
In the woodshed; in the upstairs bathroom
Dropping the face-washer down the laundry chute- a magic trick!

Your feet and face the only visible pieces
As you floated on your back in Granny’s Pool

Afterwards, walking the reef in rubber shoes
White whiskers, flannel hat blown into the sea and dried over the railing of the veranda

Your house; our house; morning tea after a morning swim
Watermelon juice a sticky trail on my hands and face

Playing in the ‘shops’ you’d transformed our trees into
Using pieces from the woodshed- bits of fence, abandoned projects

The vegetable garden; the rocking chairs; the wooden sunroom
All bathed in summer sunlight
And bathed in the light of fond memories

The landscape of my past


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