Sydney. Memories Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

I remember Sydney
Blue Sydney days
Summer Sydney nights
Filled with the lingering scent
Of a careless youth
A skin caressing atmosphere
Of trembling excitement
Cold beers hot girls
Warm sandy beaches
Frothy salty water
The ever cool hangover cure
And oh the music!
Cool gigs, guitars and
Guitar talk-Seriously unserious
In the pubs, lead break discussions
in the Orient or the Lennox
And in the Greengate
Sometimes the Birkenhead or
Maybe rides end at
Wisemans ferry
On the weekend
On the Trumpy
On the cruise, on the prowl
And always all around
Soft perfumed skin
Youthfull skin, shining
All of us smiling
With the grin of
Wreckless youth
Bikes thumping
Chisel thumping
The music our God
The little Italian thing
Our Goddess
Her chinese friend
An assistant Godess
And there were the princesses
Of the harbour
They come running
Through my head
With their varnish
And stainless steel jewellery
Planing, straining and splendidly speeding
Across the harbour
Shimmering sails
Shouting tacticians
Masters of the starting line
Crews planning, shouting, laughing
Laughing at the north easterlies
Calling on the southerlies
Blow you good thing blow
And the strategies
Of living and playing in Sydney
Consumed us all
God how all things were beautifully placed
Like an order given
From a life training school
Sydney-no petty bullshit memories
Just a town to be set
On fire.