Monday, June 11, 2012

Balnarring Beach

I've been kicking these same old stones for years
The general store at Balnarring Beach
Near where it is said Andy and Meg owned
A home on Cliff Road, perhaps the new one
Above the point where I met the dolphins
That chilled Spring day when I surfed it alone

Sometimes I walk and at others I run
Along dusty back roads and Merricks Beach
Today I take it slow, noticing waves
And dancing seaweed in shallow rock pools
Philip Island still wears the morning's mist

The sand is strolled by old people and dogs
A perfunctory nod, a gappy smile
Speaks of hidden longing for youth long passed
I wonder how long will it take the tides
To expose bones I've buried on my shore
Locked with a brass key is the seaman's chest
Consigned to the deep my tired confession

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