Authentic Presence!

What in the hell does that mean in this crazy plastic society?

EIGHTY YEARS

Grey -haired-ladies

Grace the white weatherboards:

inconspicuously

triumphing  eighty years

in unassuming suburbs

of yesterday’s Melbourne.

 

A no-nonesense-down-to-earth

warmth of times bygone and now

with a dignity unknown

to those of more prestigious

past and present.

 

It is the homeliness,

the relaxed conversation

fast disappearing  from pit-stop houses

lining deserted streets

in the rambling scrambling

flurry of heart-attack -pace.

 

A strong -aged beauty

anchors mann-abandoned homes;

to nurse a dying son or requiem

prematurely the broken candle,

warm with memories that gently

caress lives drained by death.

 

Time’s wisdom graces

the white weatherboards

supporting waiting generations;

progressively unlinked  to those of their age,

communicating an epoch that fades

into  a solitary  past life.

 

Grey -haired-ladies!

Will you grace our lives

with relaxed conversation, soothing

the aches of our pit-stop-lives,

anchoring us with earthy humanity

before we decay in deserted streets?

                            

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