It was a dull and musty day
on the bank of the Thames.
The Tower Bridge glowed dimly blue:
highlighted by the leaden sky.
It reminded me of Sydney.
I had looked at the Harbour Bridge
from this exact angle.
Even the tree, half-obscuring the view
was familiar.
Why the comparison?
Maybe meeting the waiter
in this little cafe
who came from Melbourne
(half an hour from my home in fact)
who knew people I knew
and talked of Australia
and returning soon
sparked those memories
never far away
of a country on the other side of the world
that suddenly seemed much closer.
A country I belonged to
whose images had begun to fade
lost in a London fog
but brought back into sharp relief
by a chance encounter
with ties
thin as gossamer
strong as twine
to that far-off country
I call home.

© S. McLean 1994

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