HOMEWORK 27 JANUARY 2020
Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2020 3:37 pm
FLYING HIGH
There’s a place where we used to walk and dream,
down the bush where the creek ran clear and clean,
and the tall eucalypts would wave their leaves
in the fragrant heat of Summer’s breeze.
There were tracks through the brush, a secret way
so we thought, that could lead to caves of grey
weathered rock, in the green and winking light.
But that was before the creek ran dry;
But that was before black smoke filled the sky;
And that was before the sparks flying high.
Now the dreams of the day are dreams of night.
There’s a place where we used to walk and dream,
down the bush where the creek ran clear and clean,
and the tall eucalypts would wave their leaves
in the fragrant heat of Summer’s breeze.
There were tracks through the brush, a secret way
so we thought, that could lead to caves of grey
weathered rock, in the green and winking light.
But that was before the creek ran dry;
But that was before black smoke filled the sky;
And that was before the sparks flying high.
Now the dreams of the day are dreams of night.