Dear Friend,
Today I turned.
I turned off the wake up crow of the radio announcer.
I turned pale at the arrival of the day.
I turned over and tried to go back to sleep.
I turned green at the hopes of those half my age.
I turned red with anger - or frustration - at the
               Seas still to cross,
               Mountains still to climb,
               Ideas still to pursue.
I turned and looked at my children - and was proud.
I turned back the sheets.
I turned out of bed.
I turned into an elephant carried three bundles of giggles out the door.
I turned into the kitchen and a bundle fell off - still giggling.
I turned into someone's father, but only for a moment, then we were friends again.
I turned up the heat in the griller and the toast darkened and dried out more quickly.
I turned for the milk and there was none left.
I turned into a street I'd never travelled before.
I turned off when I heard it was Joh Bjelke-Petersen's birthday.
I returned.
I turned into someone's friend and was still her father.
I turned thirty.