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There is a house in the mid distance;

A sprawling old farmhouse

Of closed in verandas, and boxy additions,

Surrounded by the trees

Of my Father and Grandmother.

Ancient Yellow Box sway in the breeze.

This was the home of my Father

And his before him.

This was my first home.

I left as a young man

Leaving my family behind,

To find a new life.

I left a part of my heart there

In amongst old machinery sheds,

Chook yards, supply channels,

And a Yellow Box forest;

In the knowledge that I would constantly return

And reignite its warmth.

My Father lies there

Beneath a tall Lemon Scented Gum.

Its waving limbs call to me

Like waving arms.

A farm in amongst many other farms.

Now I stand as an outsider looking in.

Craig 03/07/2026

Copyright Craig Buller 2026. All rights reserved