Hemmingway
The sanctuary from my childhood dream
Torn apart by beaurocratic gain,
Nothing is sacred from the dollar
Destroying all beauty on earth.
It once was a bushland wilderness
A hill, overlooking my house,
Where we used to run along the bush tracks
Racing eachother, trying to excel.
Then the noise came, an unmistakable rumble
Clearing away all that was of my childhood,
Hopes, dreams, feelings that were let go
Piece by piece as the land …
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