Homework 6th July - Curiosity...
Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2020 2:45 pm
Curiosity …
She recalled your name as Michael, though she didn’t sound too sure—
by the time we met, such details came too late;
you were certainly Australian, a labourer on leave
to New Zealand, over Christmas, ‘fifty-eight.
You had met her at a party – it was likely New Year’s Eve,
where the booze was flowing plentiful and strong
and resistance would be feeble – but you both were legal age,
so I’m not accusing you of any wrong.
I believe she asked, “What happens if the worst should come to pass?”
But you hushed her fears and said it would be fine;
I assume you left without a thought that this might not be so—
but the seed you sowed became the life that’s mine.
Then she battled bitter prejudice from family and friends—
I’m so grateful that she bravely saw it through,
for although you didn’t keep in touch nor ever meet again,
I was born, quite simply, due to her and you.
I was raised within the best of homes, loved more than words can say—
they will always be my only Mum and Dad;
but it’s natural to wonder now and then along the way
just exactly who you were – the life you had.
It is probable you never once imagined I’d exist,
and the dalliance just faded from your mind;
maybe just a fleeting memory of someone whom you kissed—
passing interlude enjoyed and left behind.
Were you shearer, drover, poet, miner, criminal or saint?
Were you wealthy man or poor? Of what descent?
And compassionate, good fun, or somewhat prickly and severe?
Were you larrikin, or prone to glum lament?
Maybe ailments might have burdened you? What views did you possess?
Did you treasure all that’s beautiful in life,
like its music, art and poetry? And did you ever love
with deep passion and longevity, a wife?
I am proud to be a Kiwi, love my home with all my heart,
while my links to British Isles I also prize;
and there’s yet another tie that simply cannot be denied,
though we never met or saw each other’s eyes.
For I’ve lived in your Great Southern Land, and feel this bond as well—
even written of its oceans, bush and plains—
so I’m also chuffed to know that though I haven’t any proof,
just a little Aussie blood runs through my veins.
© Catherine Lee, July 2020
She recalled your name as Michael, though she didn’t sound too sure—
by the time we met, such details came too late;
you were certainly Australian, a labourer on leave
to New Zealand, over Christmas, ‘fifty-eight.
You had met her at a party – it was likely New Year’s Eve,
where the booze was flowing plentiful and strong
and resistance would be feeble – but you both were legal age,
so I’m not accusing you of any wrong.
I believe she asked, “What happens if the worst should come to pass?”
But you hushed her fears and said it would be fine;
I assume you left without a thought that this might not be so—
but the seed you sowed became the life that’s mine.
Then she battled bitter prejudice from family and friends—
I’m so grateful that she bravely saw it through,
for although you didn’t keep in touch nor ever meet again,
I was born, quite simply, due to her and you.
I was raised within the best of homes, loved more than words can say—
they will always be my only Mum and Dad;
but it’s natural to wonder now and then along the way
just exactly who you were – the life you had.
It is probable you never once imagined I’d exist,
and the dalliance just faded from your mind;
maybe just a fleeting memory of someone whom you kissed—
passing interlude enjoyed and left behind.
Were you shearer, drover, poet, miner, criminal or saint?
Were you wealthy man or poor? Of what descent?
And compassionate, good fun, or somewhat prickly and severe?
Were you larrikin, or prone to glum lament?
Maybe ailments might have burdened you? What views did you possess?
Did you treasure all that’s beautiful in life,
like its music, art and poetry? And did you ever love
with deep passion and longevity, a wife?
I am proud to be a Kiwi, love my home with all my heart,
while my links to British Isles I also prize;
and there’s yet another tie that simply cannot be denied,
though we never met or saw each other’s eyes.
For I’ve lived in your Great Southern Land, and feel this bond as well—
even written of its oceans, bush and plains—
so I’m also chuffed to know that though I haven’t any proof,
just a little Aussie blood runs through my veins.
© Catherine Lee, July 2020
