|eucalyptus, Melbourne Victoria|
I could fly to eternity in your arms
Your dress slipping to reveal your smooth skin:
pink dappled and parchment pale
You, who hold your arms aloft, waltzing for decades with
parrot and possum.
Empress of the Nyads and of Dryads the Queen:
Your grace a standard we mortals aspire to,
Should we have the sense to look up.