Like brunette hair, in springs air,
Like anxious boys, trespassing stares.
Like warm feet on hot concrete,
Like broken sprinklers in summer heat.
Sometimes I wish, I could go back there,
Back to youth, without a care.
Fresh cut grass, Wattle tree shadow casts,
Cicadas songs, all night long.
Rock cake, freshly baked,
Meat pies, blue skies.
BMX bikes, bushwalk hikes.
Gravel football, Kookaburra’s call,
Fifty cent lollies, races in shopping trolleys.
Like salty waves, and Jenolan caves,
Two dollars at the milk bar, all down under the southern cross stars.
A taste of Aussie summers in my youth.