This morning I went kick-boarding in the rain at Lawson Pool. When I arrived the steam was gently rising from the water (an encouraging sign) but the pool was empty of swimmers. While I was blithely lapping the chlorinated depths, a little verse I had written in Grade 1 popped into my head.

The ships sail on the merry sea
They travel anywhere
They anchor in the little bay
When men go home for tea.

The poem had made it into a (now long lost) school magazine at Rose Bay Public in 1965. I think that maybe there were lots of little verses and stories in the publication, so it was no great shakes to be included. When I was working on the poem in class, I can still vividly remember going up to the teacher's desk so she could check my work. My recollection was that she has recommended the last line over my somewhat dramatic, "And then they sail away." Probably a good idea, I think.

I have always had a love of words and I hope that Tom does too. Language may or may not be a cage, but even with bars, the interior is expansive.