They can try all they like, it will always be Spencer Street to me...
Morning, Deborah Ager
You know how it is waking
from a dream certain you can fly
and that someone, long gone, returned
and you are filled with longing,
for a brief moment, to drive off
the road and feel nothing
or to see the loved one and feel
everything. Perhaps one morning,
taking brush to hair you'll wonder
how much of your life you've spent
at this task or signing your name
or rising in fog in near darkness
to ready for work. Day begins
with other people's needs first
and your thoughts disperse like breath.
In the in-between hour, the solitary hour,
before day begins all the world
gradually reappears car by car.
3 comments:
Splendid poem...got me teary-eyed.
Love your shot of the undulating roof and the web of tram lines - just super.
Trip to Croatia was too short (2 weeks, beginning of August) but it was high time I went - it's been 20 years. Got to enjoy the highrises from SFRJ era - made me think of your "favorite" local building when I passed by those.
You never lived in Melbourne. You only visited a few times. Spencer Street Station to me will always be Spencer street. With my first job I traveled to Spencer Street every day and with my second job I actually worked from Spencer Street.
Southern Cross. Bah humbug!
Tash, it is a ripping poem. Very poignant. It's good to hear that Croatia was a good trip.
Roddy, BAH!
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