and the page turns,
memories sepia, brown
and frosted with time
come to light.
faint, murmuring words,
swim at the back of my mind.

summer days....spent in splendour.
balmy nights and mosquito nets.
rockpools little crab kingdoms, the smell of coconut oil and arms macadamia nut brown..

and again the page turns
the boys in rugby kit
me standing off to one side
head in a book...
one girl among too many older brothers
always a tagalong in handmedowns and enid blyton's famous five..

and again the page turns...
christmss hats and presents
cold chicken,salads and little baby prawns....sherry trifle
and poppajack snoring, beer still in hand...

and the page turns and turns
little windows into former lives......sometimes nostalgia
and sometimes.... just a peeping tom..

More tagalong
more chirping, the people kind
and hibiscus flowers in my mouth,
and so much effort to grasp each age and eye of mine
in two pastel-sticky-fingered hands
after hearing "pontification" uttered
in my head, so far off ago,
despite the delight still sifting
through my opal waves of brain,
some iridescent sponge,
absorbing sensuality,
roaming freely in the park,
contending with philosophers and bums
yet confusing the two heads
under a waxing crescent,
bright like an angel's sickle,
a pearly scythe,
just the moon and the reckoners
with no home base.

my home is welcome all my own go foreclose the banks so dance I yell bang pots and pans play christmas music in july forget using coasters eat all the food fry marshmallows with candle lighters set off smoke detector and no one knows no landlord can find no obligation to make the bed vacuum talk in the hallway put earplugs answer the phone can I yes come go as I please never a tagalong never pretend I don't live there I will be too honest and turn off the lights I will never be quiet I will jump on the couch cushions and bounce on the bed blow bubbles in tea and make a huge mess I can have anyone over whenever I like or no one at all I will never be careful. And in my house I don't cry into pillows.

I’ve always struggled with feeling like I don’t belong anywhere.
That I’m taking up space in a room;
I’m only there because of the person I’m with, nobody cares about my presence.
Everyone feels like a stranger to me just a bit.
When I’m low I don’t have anyone to bring me up because nobody knows how to.
The third wheel, tagalong who always shows up late and leaves early.