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kate
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« on: January 18, 2012, 12:27:15 PM » |
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HOWARD
I met a bloke once, up Kuranda way, odd sort of chap,
Not much to say for himself, he’d sit
For hours on the verandah of old Mrs Miller’s place,
Now a backpackers’ hostel, but he didn’t seem to fit.
Howard his name was. Pommie. He was only young.
Sat doing puzzles with a tinnie and a fag.
Or sat just staring at the middle distance,
Seemed to me he thought life was a drag.
I used to sit there in the early mornings,
Before the world got busy and the tourists came that way.
He’d nod as I sat down with mug of coffee,
The only words we spoke were just “G’day.”
This went on for a week or so. Others came and went,
I wanted to talk more, but respected his space.
I’d leave to walk amongst the greenery and lushness,
On my return he’d be sat there in his place.
One day, when just we two were the only people staying,
I took the plunge and sat and asked him where
He came from, was he travelling? A student?
Why did he sit with unrelenting stare?
He told me that he had never been anywhere so beautiful.
He landed at Cairns from whence he took “John’s Bus”
Up here to Kuranda, in the midst of the rainforest,
He'd been here ever since, for six weeks plus.
He said in England all he saw was concrete,
Office blocks, Tower blocks, traffic and crowds.
His job was in computers, his office shrill and busy,
He’d never had the time to sit and watch the clouds.
He had a three-month visa, but was thinking
That maybe he would never go back home.
He was pondering the consequences of him staying over,
Starting a new life here in Australia on his own.
He seemed so serious, so introspective,
I wondered was there more? He seemed so sad.
But when he spoke of this new life he planned,
His eyes lit up, his face grew bright and glad.
We spoke each morning then, and sometimes through the night
We’d sit on the verandah and we’d chat.
Share our stories, share our hopes and dreams,
Sometimes I’d cook for him. He quite liked that.
I had to leave, though wished that I could stay.
Kuranda has a magic that is all its own.
I wished him well, he hugged me, said “Goodbye”
Thanked me for the interest I’d shown.
I left him where I found him, sitting out
On the verandah of old Mrs Miller’s place.
I often wonder if he took the plunge and settled.
I still can see that young and thoughtful face.
Howard, if you ever read this, wheresoe’er you be,
(‘Twould be, I think, a wondrous twist of fate)
I wish you well, I hope you’ve found contentment,
And send a warm “G’day” from Mrs Kate.
© Kate Ashforde 18 Jan 2012
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