Looking Back

We like our little house,

we tell each other. It’s cosy.

And it is. And we do like it.

But one day, suddenly, 

unexpectedly, I say, 

‘Sometimes I miss 

the house we left behind’ —

remembering palm fronds

seen through bedroom windows,

and the rhythmic sound of waves.

‘I know what you mean,’

he mutters, to my surprise.

Despite the tiny bathroom,

the back yard we couldn’t use

for the noisy neighbours,

and the too-high rent

despite the python in the roof

which made us fear for our cats,

and a low street that could flood,

despite the awkward hike

from laundry to clothesline,

the brown snakes in summer ...

come to think of it,

I don’t miss it that much.

Note: For the benefit of non-Aussies, our brown snakes are deadly

30 Poems in 30 days: 22, leaving something behind