Then it was a gravel road,
The car a cocoon of dust
From Waitakaruru, to Thames,
Where today, retired, I live.
Pollen Street, three old guys,
One of them is me.
Chortling, sharing aches and pains,
Growing old, it ain’t for sissies.
Grahamstown, an almost gypsy vibe.
Op-shops, cafes, a music shop, I stop,
Two strangers, two guitars and now,
Both tuned, becoming friends.
David in Pen and Pics 