I remember a time, recently.
Where thoughts lost their voice.
Where minutes demanded to stay
Selene bouncing light off the water as if she was skipping rocks.
With each bump a beam of light,
Back to dark.

He's off tune
It's melancholic
Take it easy
My stillness guided by Eagles, time to loosen my load.
Cliff's face in awe of the sea.
Such a beautiful view pinched by Nyx.

Uncrinkle my ticket, touch her hand as I hand it over.
Board the barge, and sit far away.
Water falls, as sheep jump, from the aircon
My heavy eyes teased with closure
Another first?

A first kiss
First touch
First sniff
First person view

Let's take a rest for now.
Bury your toes in the sand.
Brush the knots from your hair.
Tell me all the things on your mind.
Stay beside me, breathe us in
Exhale Queensland air
If everything could ever feel this real forever.
Orange fades for the land and sea blend.
Four feet visible, whelmed cool wind
Flashing horizon eyes, comfortable crashes.
Inside laughs, night time romance.
Sharing lemon sorbet
If anything could ever be this good again.

Bare Aussie bushland, browned on site.
Elders burn for new path
Miles of straw, used to dance between the teeth of a ranger.  
Barbed wire for the pest, no water for the pets.
Long corridors of gum, the chipped bark carpet.
Best keep away from the reaper's tanning bed, unapologetic rubber of justice
Refresh yourself with an ale instead, it's the Great Northern attitude.
Tip your 'Kurba to anyone you cross, at least raise your pointer and middle.
Avoid the Bunyip, any black cats too.
Got some big fruits though, something for the sun visor.

Some days I worry what my house thinks of me
These old walls watch and ponder about why I sleep in so late
Would she have chosen me?
A farmer once,
Stale smell of freshly shaven wool, a crunch of a pebble underneath a hoof alerts him of company.
Acres of field surrounded her like feathers to a peacock.
A family before me,
Twenty-two christmas mornings she watched. She also saw their children dress for graduation.
And leave.
Cracks in the wall shape a smile as she dreams how'd they once draw meadows and mountains on her thighs.
Today's Thursday, a terrified twenty-two year old telling tales of lies to impress his friends.
She knows who I really am, she doesn't mind either.
She's know she'll outlast my sleep-ins and tearful poems.
My magnolia tree too
Maybe I remind her of the boy before me
Maybe she's embarrassed.
Either way I'm apart of her history, and she apart of mine.
I'll remember the cold mornings making it so easy to sleep-in
That broken tap outside with the rhythmic drip.
Or how the stairs groan almost to complain from my arrival.
Yet, until my departure
Even in our last moments
We share memories
A chapter in each-other novels