In the good
old days
I could say
what I wanted
and I loved
everybody.
Back in the
good old days.
.
My letter box housed
Letters, junk mail
And postcards from friends.
In the silly season, Christmas cards.
.
A week after my holidays
I liked my photos.
My friends came to a slide night.
I told the story in each and every slide.
.
When a bushfire approached
The story of my life.
Hundreds of heavy photo albums.
Filled my wheelbarrow.
.
Sunday in the local church
I squirmed and fidgeted
with my neatly dressed mates
and gawked at the females.
