When retreat sounds its seductive horn,
all the glittering prizes tarnished,
come slip this concrete, scuff-knuckled world,
search for the peace of the vanquished.
Coast down the hanging hillside,
familier township dawn misty in its lea.
Drift to a weary standstill at the foreshore,
in front of the aging 'Coffee and Tea'.
You can linger in the respite sunshine
of golden wattles on Illusion's shore.
Light burdened with their shining blossoms,
the early bees about their humming chore.
Walk beside the ancient pavillions,
tattered banners faded and worn,
push through the hiddious Teetrees,
twisted limbs held against a promised dawn.
Across the wooden foot-bridge...
above the clapping sea...
over the sliding sand dunes...
your searching ways near gone,
in tranquil surrender you sit beside me,
bring your bitter thoughts undone.


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