I went out looking for a house
down St. George's Road, on up to
the Blockhouse Bay roundabout,
turned right around it, downhill
past a school, past memories
then uphill to the shops.
I turned right into Bolton Street,
another right turn into Marlowe Road,
past Keats Street, then left into
Swinburne Street and parked the car.
I wanted to walk around these poetic streets.
I saw a house with cream stucco walls,
with 'buy me' written all over it.
I knocked on the door, which was opened
by a woman who was packing her bags,
but she still had time to show me round
the two-storeyed two-bedroom house,
where I felt important on the red carpet.
'I'm doing the packing myself',
'I am a loner', she said honestly.
-28 June,2000. (Revised June,2016) .
''I'm doing the packing myself', she said, ' I am an independent woman like Beyonce'. 'I'll buy that', was my response.' Intrigued, the comment not the house, a walked through this poem with you, reminded me of a poem I wrote about Auckland once, which makes the experiences of a few hours ageless in memories
Very good to hear from you again. I am glad that you got something from my musing on Auckland. Memories are indeed precious.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I wanted to see these poetic streets. I saw a house with cream stucco walls, with 'buy me' written all over it. I knocked on the door, which was opened by a woman......so touching and haunting expression. A beautiful poem so nicely executed.
Thanks very much for quoting a few lines and showing appreciation of what I wrote.