Elegy

This is to say thanks for the Vegemite soldiers
Five – always five – careful, perfect salty strips.
Never changing but for, in later years:
A side of coffee – just how I liked it.

This is to say sorry for the inquisitive child
Who found the empty packets of Kraft macaroni.
And not to regret, but just to wonder
How you made it taste so good.

This is to reassure you that, while I may
Have stretched the truth in the most
Implausible way, I never lied –
I do like my chicken cold, sometimes.

This is to revisit the scrapbookful
Of carefully clipped cuttings, and
Copperplate greetings that never failed to arrive
A few days before their time.

This is to make known the doting generosity
- The sweet jar filled to the brim with years
Of 50c pieces, three jam jars filled with
Hand-scooped passionfruit pulp prepared for my stay

This is to remember the slip-slap-slip
Of your shuffling slippered feet. The soft tongue click
Of your sympathy and the kindness
In your smiling eyes

This is for the world to see
The echoes of you that stay in me.
This is to testify: you made
Me a shadow of you that can never fade.

This is my ode to Joy.