Monday, December 24, 2012

She Is From The Place

Her hair is as dark as the wing of a crow
The one from the place where the dark Hopkins flow
Towards Warrnambool  to the sea at the Blue Hole
Where the white waves of the Pacific rumble and roll

With eyes as brown as ripe chestnut of the Fall
A natural beauty so graceful and tall
On her twenty third year quite close to her physical prime
Her ancestors were the people of the Dreamtime

A young dusky beauty lovely to behold
Her people as a Race in time very old
It is said that they have lived on the far southern shore
In time sixty thousand years if not even more

She is from the place where the wild moorhen cry
And the dark welcome swallows do chirp as they fly
In pursuit of flying insects all day in the sky
A young woman of charm and beauty though a little shy.

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