Healing

WRITTEN FOR SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS
HEALING

At first the wound is gruesome, one can hardly bear to look

And it seems one will be scarred for evermore.

One gazes in the mirror and shrinks back from the sight

And the area is quite horrible and sore.

But days go by and, subtly, changes are taking place,

The wound is growing smaller by the hour.

The angry look has faded and the colour is quite pale

All due to the body's mighty healing power.

As time goes by one views it less,  one thinks of pleasanter things,

At times one can't recall that it is there!

Until, one day, one remembers it and finds a small white scar

To remind one  of a very nasty scare.

And so it is with cities that are battered in great storms;

The wounds are deep and bloody at the start
But good old Time heals all things, just as we've been told,

And the memories of trauma will depart.
*
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AWAITING INSPECTION

We're waiting for inspection.

We're lined-up in a row,

Shiny wood up on the top,

And metal down below.

We have a martial aspect,

A military manner

And every one of us out here

Waves a shadow banner.

*

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PS

The first Tuesday in November is the day the Melbourne Cup race is run. They call it 'the race that stops a nation.' Malcolm and I went to a Melbourne Cup lunch (for which read picnic) at the Surf Club. The views from there are exceptional.

Colleen looked very chic in scarlet.

I looked less than lovely in my hat but I assure you it was quite pretty from the other side!

Camilla and Charles graced the proceedings.