Coming Home

The anticipation is deafening,

My limbs, they can’t stay still,

Internal butterflies are on attack,

A battle between ill, and thrill.


Have my memories served me well

Or were they delusions beyond their due?

Will my community remember me?

Or will they stare blankly and say, “Who?”


What has changed? Who has changed?

In my sleepy coastal home.

Have I changed?  Have my dreams changed?

From Africa, where I roamed.


The airport’s now paid parking,

Some cafes moved or closed,

Brick havens sprouted like mushrooms,

Replacing beach shacks bulldozed.


The streets are eerily similar

With the barks of liberated mutts.

The ‘Eish’ and ‘Hau’ of Africa

Replaced with the Aussie, ‘Yeah, no, but’


Yet it’s not long before the salty air

Dances harmoniously on my tongue,

The sweet stench of seaweed

Fills my landlocked African lung.


The water is as brilliant blue

As the sky from which it echoes.

Sand and salt clutch at my skin,

Sticking resolutely like geckoes.


The bike from the shed, my trusty steed

Breathes rapidly back to life.

The cycling is easy, flat and fast,

The delight, my mirth, is rife


My feet fall quickly back into beat

With the rock and roll tunes of old,

But joined now by ballroom beats

Danced in sandals, rubber-soled.


The days are interesting & varied,

Pilates or an afternoon kite,

Sheep shearing in the morning,

Reciting poetry at night.


Yet what of the people, my long-lost friends?

What effect of time abroad?

Well, we settled back into tea and chats

Like the land that time ignored.


Of all the sights I’ve seen these years,

Of all the places I’ve roamed,

My memories have stood me well,

Geraldton, my sleepy coastal home.


Categories: Life in General | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

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2 thoughts on “Coming Home

  1. Brilliant.

  2. Rachel


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