Friday was Sydney’s second hottest November day on record. I went for a walk with two friends from my teenage and young adult years that I’ve recently renewed contact with.
Rhyme # 7:
Three old men in shorts went walking
out in November’s hottest day –
walking, talking, and some gawking
as we passed by Lady Bay
where brave souls bared all to the weather,
bodies turning slow to leather.
We reached South Head, its ocean breeze,
the Gap, and ancient friendship’s ease.
The times we shared, the years we’ve travelled
different paths, loves won and lost,
lessons learned, and bridges crossed,
the histories that we’ve unravelled:
we talked, and round our old men’s noise
we felt warm ghosts of teenage boys.
Me fail? I fly! 