Seacliff SA 5049
Brett Cranswick
These narrow alleyways all look the same;
So do their townhouses. See this street here,
That dips to almost form a picture frame,
Bordering either side the ocean's clear,
Knowing smile as it laps the pebbled shore
Below the level of traffic. And that
One might as well be nameless, serving more
As inspiration for a TV chat
Show on the ordinary lives we waste
Than the main tributary feeding streams
Of middle class ambition, flowing past
Fallow-left fields of vague Housing Trust dreams.
For want of better words, silence is golden.
The greatest gift is time, borrowed, beholden.