Sterling Pearl,
Mother myriad,
True heart...
Augusts’ flower
We are glad
Yet pierced with
Remembrance
In our farewell.
Ah, for us
Two small hands
One beating heart,
And yet,
As the durable reddish lumber
To a river red
Spreads her branches
Our stabilizing guardian
We too sheltered
Neath your arbor
Shaded from judgements
And finicky ways
In the pure
Light
Of day.
Baking beauty in the warmth of
A minstrel's
Recollections,
You picked the brightest leaves
And handed us the past
With a cup of tea
And sweet cake.
And we loved you,
And if that love be sorrow’s tears now
Then give her tears to the
Barmah plains
And so she will reach her beginning and into the lungs of
life
Once more....
In memory of Marjory Bruton
