Unwinding - Poem by Rod Morris
A tumbledown shack at the end of a track
Somewhere to slow down, a retreat.
No hustle and bustle or corporate muscle,
Just lay back and put up your feet.
Burst the work bubble, forget every trouble,
That comes from making ends meet.
Swap the work throng for melodic birdsong,
Feel free, one of the elite.
To go back to a city, seems such a pity,
The fresh smell of the bush is so sweet.
The hum of the bees, the rustle of trees,
Memories you're bound to repeat.
Another work-week, has made you feel bleak,
Once more it's your time to unbend.
Return to the track, the tumbledown shack,
With your mate and your worries will end.
It's really quite funny, you need little money,
To partake of a life full of treasure.
Grandiose schemes, won't enhance your dreams,
Its freedom that makes life a pleasure.
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