Andrew

for Bruce Dawe God speed Andrew, may the sun be at your back. The leaves have dropped and winter chills your three score years and more. It's some months since the hospice rang, dissolving forty years. 'It should have been me' you told the dead telephone. You held her hand and promised. Remember? A nice young couple bought the house. 'Have you lived here long? ' 'Thirty-five years, ' you said. 'It's lovely, ' they told you. You had to walk away. 'Sorry if we've...' 'It's alright, the agent reassured, he's just a bit upset.' Settle in thirty days? Sooner if you like? Thirty days is fine, there are a few things. We understand. The agent rang, the cheque's arrived. One more walk around the house. He thought he heard the children laugh? What's left? Check the list. Tell the neighbours. Warm the engine. Don't forget to shut the gate. It's a long drive to the sunshine coast. Take it in easy stages. 'See, I didn't forget my glasses' God speed Andrew, may the sun be at your back.