You Offered Me Your Hand
A Poem
You talked me to the edge of our city. We wanted blue penguins and no more pedestrians. We needed a break to breathe adventure. We needed the end of suburbia.
You told me the Morepork is a small brown owl. I did not tell you, I wanted the wings of an eagle. We travelled further than the bus would take us — gravel turned to dust to dirt and mud then pine floor forests that held no footprints at all.