The Child I once was and knew so well
Has faded into a hardened shell

I won and lost a battle here and there
But yet, the war it rages everywhere

My wisdom do earn, and then over rate it
And yet, still others will debate it

Faithful trust, just turned into dust
Life was de-veined, derailed, just a bust

I must, I must, I must
Postponed and deflated

Under rated 'twas some other's fate
I entered into life; a little less, then late

A gently falling autumn rain
breaking a long dry spell,
bringing life to plants again
as waterways begin to swell.

The days henceforth won't be as warm
nor the woods so sere and dry.
Should the season hold true to form
'fore long peepers won't croak or cry.

Perhaps this front will bring a frost
or at least some cooler days
as the green from leaves is lost
and puddles gain an icy glaze.

wind through wattle's perfume to me whispers
pure essence enticing taste-buds to spread
visions of old gods and ambrosias

emulating honeyed-nests of lovers
as eighty angels dance in each flower-head
wind through wattle's perfume to me whispers

independent yellow-haired Septembers
down in the land of the Waratah bred
visions of old gods and ambrosias

with the Wattle Australia remembers
endurance, by its floral emblem led
wind through wattle's perfume to me whispers