Friday, 4 July 2008

Looking back by Duncan Fraser

creek of my boyhood,
through carefree days we roamed its banks,
we swam, we fished,
and took it all for granted,
but it is just a shadow now
of what it used to be,
life-giving floods are all too rare,
yet still it flows.

now, when I cross the little bridge
that spans the sheltered reach
before it meets the river,
I gaze upstream through older eyes
made wiser by the years,
to see the dappled sunshine light
the beauty that I failed to heed
when I was just a boy.

Duncan Fraser, Australia

1 comment:

Cynthia said...

A beauty this, Duncan. The memory
flows much like a river. A reader
of poetry knows intuitively when a
poem is of fine quality because
when you read it you feels somewhere in the back of your mind
that you know the words before
come upon each one.