long unencumbered summers,
endless warm winded days at the beach,
surfing, swimming, sun-baking and surfing again,
furtively playing cards to the small hours,
walking home and the street lights turning off at midnight.
scrambling along the river,
through mangroves and reeds,
finding signs of past boats fading in the mud,
sailing my own sabot – not too successfully!
treks into the bush,
sneaking out early with a friend,
exploring in the early dawn
and yabbying with string and morsels of meat.
cycling far afield
to other towns and places,
with lunch and possibilities
firmly tied on.
when worries were small
and life was big,
when dreams were limitless
and “no” un-thought of.
but as they say,
‘that was another country’
… it still whispers to me.