The waterlily and the pink galahs AnnDalyWriter.comIt’s out of print, but I found a used copy of “The Waterlily” by Kate Llewellyn on Amazon. It was a birthday gift from Helen to Lizzy, according to the inscription, two years after the book was originally published. I’d read it a number of years ago, when I began going to Australia to visit Ross’s family. I remembered it fondly as a “I started a new life and a new garden” book, this time in the idyllic Blue Mountains town of Leura. On re-reading, unfortunately, I found the book less about the garden and more about the ill-fated love affairs. But along with the book came a poem, handwritten, on a piece of stationery decorated with a bottle brush blossom. Whose it is, unknown: Galleries of pink galahs
Crystal nights with diamond stars
Apricots, preserved in jars
That’s my home

More Bonuses Land of oceans in the sun
Purple hazes river gum
Breaks your heart when rain won’t come
It breaks your heart It takes a harsh and cruel drought
To sort the weaker saplings out
It makes room for stronger trees
Maybe that’s what life’s about

Winter’s come the hills are brown
Shops are closed the blinds are down
Everybody’s leaving town
They can’t go on.

The south wind through verandah gauze
Whines and bangs the homestead doors
A mother curses dusty floors
And feels alone

Trucks and bulk bins filled with rust
Boy leaves home to make a crust
A feather’s dreams reduced to dust
But he must go on

Tortured redgums unashamed
Sunburnt country wisely named
Chisel-ploughed and wire claimed
But never never never tamed

Whirlwind swirls a paper high
Same old news of further dry
Of broken clouds just passing by
That’s my home

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