A Poem for Phil

Landscapes of the past; white dunes, crystal beaches

The golden thread of the horizon

This place of my childhood forever tied to you

Days in your asymmetrical house

In the woodshed; in the upstairs bathroom

Dropping the face-washer down the laundry chute- a magic trick!

Your feet and face the only visible pieces

As you floated on your back in Granny’s Pool

Afterwards, walking the reef in rubber shoes

White whiskers, flannel hat blown into the sea and dried over the railing of the veranda

Your house; our house; morning tea after a morning swim

Watermelon juice a sticky trail on my hands and face

Playing in the ‘shops’ you’d transformed our trees into

Using pieces from the woodshed- bits of fence, abandoned projects

The vegetable garden; the rocking chairs; the wooden sunroom

All bathed in summer sunlight

And bathed in the light of fond memories

The landscape of my past