Strolling down memory lane
I find it littered with myopic shards
so I flesh out the sweet shiny ones
like diamond dew on the grass

Strolling beside the winding creek
I hear the fall before it’s seen
it’s coolness caressing the rocks
to gush along the well-worn bed

Camping, fun jobs, motorbikes
good friends, travel and dancing
the joyful hedonism of youth
then as reality hit the study

clambering over the wet surfaces
besotted by the bright blue yabbies
all seeking a new waterhole

I feel like a frontier explorer

dVerse Poetics: On Wandering & Observing