The Wishing Jar

There were white waves

Like sweet meringue on the cusp

Of a treacherously dangerous

unquenchable blue

There were those

days in Coffs

Or at Callala Bay...

Those days

That forgot

About

Anything that might

Have broken

And filled up

A hole or two

With tumbling

Laughter

Down the

Softest

and

Sweetest

of

sand dunes.

Like Nana Byrnes

And the

Wishing jar

Filled with

Lollies and dreams

On a wibbly

Wobbly trolley

A jar of once a day

Indulgence

Or a wanting

Just to look upon

Like sugary pigments

Of hope somehow...

Like something of

Another day’s

Anticipation

And the glass was curved

And braced in curl about

Gold with a handle

To hold onto

And we said

Let’s keep

Holding on

To Nana’s

Wishing Jar

Even when the world feels

wibbly wobbly

And there’s a space left

In losing

Because I’m still

Hoping for you

Every day

Like the jar

might never run out