If only houses could talk

Talk

I want to talk
talk talk talk
I want to talk
talk talk talk

oh will you talk
talk talk talk
oh will you talk
talk talk talk

why won’t you talk
talk talk talk
why won’t you talk
talk talk talk

we need to talk
talk talk talk
we need to talk
talk talk talk

or else I walk
walk walk walk
or else I walk
walk
wa
lk
w
a
l
k
.
.
.
.
. . . . . . . . . .

away

sea talk

Gibson’s Steps Beach, south west coast, Victoria.
Talk to me about the sea
of sand drift and sea breeze murmurings
of tidal sliding and wavelets gliding
onto a peaceful shore

of curling surf and whale songs
of towering waves and sailor’s graves
of a blow driven chop hard to cross
and the constant desire for more

of rock pool eddies of a wind unsteady
of sudden squalls and risking all
of unpredictable storms defying norms
of salty landless freedom

of reflected moonlight and sunsets bright
of dolphins playing and albatross staying
of cutting the water and catching fish
of life in Neptune’s kingdom

of thunderheads piled high or a cloudless sky
of seabirds arriving splashing and diving
of phosphorescent wake so easy to take
of distant horizons all around

tell me tales about the briny sea
how to travel a weather filled journey
crossing oceans wide upon the tide
and I’ll take you where I’m bound