Poetry of Robert Fisher
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Before us the wall of red photinia
And beyond the rolling Indian Ocean,
At our backs rain forests and carved idols.
Our own little inland sea filled with
Blue sky and white clouds,
Flung shadows, wind
Broadcasting silent ripples.
Side by side in the sun,
Breathing in bougainvillea,
The aroma of mown grass.
Afternoons inching like glaciers,
Our beings flowing into one another.

Our world bordered by pink flowers,
Red flowers, purple and violet, magenta,
You in your broad straw hat tending them
The way you nursed our children.

The house echoes now, empty of furniture,
Nail holes and light squares where once
Pictures and watercolours gave us your warmth.
The pool a concrete tank with swirling autumn leaves,
The grass brown, long, weed marred,
The hedge a tangle of sticks showing the sea.

Your furniture and I in a much smaller space,
And for the sound of combers
The rumble a few times a day of passing trains.

May 2nd, 2017