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		| Dawn Y.
 Perth, AUSTRALIA
 
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	| Glad she's at home now with doves outside and the pretty flowers bustled gently in the wind. She's never been very kind to me but it doesn't really matter - certainly not now. Anyway I always felt ok about it. Some people are just brusque and she used to smack my hand if I'd hurt the other one. This is just her. Today was the nicest chat we've ever had. No intentions for two hours of slow turning revelation through simple speech - I expected to be in and out, polite, cooing, malleable. Off to a barbeque I don't want to go to. Instead I talked with her and her sister - three women in a room. One of them - almost three times as young waxing lyrical about life on Mars and fundamentalism and Melbourne weather and a nasty boss and my awkward hair cut. And they - talking back about Cape Town and nomads and servants and letters from small boys and all the different names for the same fish and sucking sugar cane and the shipping company and the joy of sport. Cold hands soft skin still the same chuckle that throughout the years was usually attached to a negative sentiment but today had hubris and almost pleasure. I wrote this song before she was officially ill. I think I'll miss her.
 
 Out in your garden grows,
 Guavas and mangos and
 The midday sun brings out the crows.
 I recall weekend mornings
 Waking up to dove calls those
 Those days unnumbered and unflawed.
 
 Inside your house grows,
 Mildew and flesh wounds and
 There's two clocks set for different times
 The sun's become a nuisance
 Hiding behind blinds
 And all those bird calls are one more thing to keep from mind but -
 
 Outside, there's company.
 And outside, there's dirty feet.
 You don't need a child's imagination to feel it
 Oh feel it
 The magic of a West Australian backyard,
 That's as loyal as your sons.
 Gran's garden.
 
 Inside your chest grows
 Feathers and smallness and
 Cataract eyes they watch T.V
 It's always better when Wimbledon is on
 But all those memories don't stay away for very long cos -
 
 Outside, there's company.
 And outside, there's dirty feet.
 You don't need a child's imagination to feel it
 Oh feel it
 The magic of a West Australian backyard,
 That's as loyal as your sons.
 Gran's garden.
 
 Out in your garden grows guavas and mangos and freesias and jonquils and avocados and for-get-me-nots.
 
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