It's a humble corrugated nest,
Where there is nurture and rest.
A place surrounded gum and wattle trees,
Where inhabitants are warm and live to please.
A place where an old axe head stands wedged,
Grandfather's last action it is alleged.
He often took trees from the nearby hill,
To warm our home against the chill.
Grandfather is no longer with us,
He passed quietly with little fuss.
Granny had passed a few years before,
His was failing, not wanting to live any more.
Now new life lives under this roof,
The laughter of my children is the proof.
To me without doubt one thing is plain,
The corrugated nest smiles once again.
R. K. Hart 25/3/2013