
The Language of Us
Doris Falidis-Nickolas’ poetry beautifully captures love, loss, and remembrance, offering comfort to those navigating grief.
16.3.1973 - 23.01.2019
Are the bags packed, be beamed He’d decided it was time to go, so it seemed
I know a place not far from here, his mouth smiling, brown eyes blinking
A place where a river runs, so take some lures for sinking (or it’s good for fish and drinking)
In the cruiser at high speed, down the road he travelled Bushy and Dalton on the back seat stared at their master, dazzled
Up ahead the stars shone brightly, twinkling up above This man was born to this place, his country, so much love
A great many knew of his battle, his courage and his fight Nothing was going to hold him back, no nothing, not tonight
The engine slowed, he was here at last, his heart gave a quiver All he had to do now was cast his line upon the river
Great buffs loomed amonst the paperbark, and a croc, he was wary
Nothing could shake this great man’s determination when he was on the Mary
He’s still out there now on the bank whistling his own song
For here he will be at peace, this man forever strong
Will be greatly missed by the Southwood Family.
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