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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365870" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Taking Root</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'd seen Lianne at her cottage door<br>When I'd walked the old bush track, <br>The cottage had been abandoned, but<br>She was gradually bringing it back, <br>She painted it and she patched it<br>There was nothing she couldn't do, <br>I even saw her up on the roof<br>Repairing a faulty flue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I simply waved at the girl at first<br>And she'd smile, and wave on back, <br>She must have been used to seeing me<br>On that little-used outback track, <br>I wondered why she would settle there<br>In a cottage, out on her own, <br>I never saw anyone else to share<br>The place that she called her home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I stopped, of course, and I spoke to her<br>Once I'd passed a dozen times, <br>She said that she loved the fresh, clean air, <br>That she'd travelled from colder climes, <br>The sun was warm in the early spring<br>But I mentioned about the drought, <br>‘The summer heat is intense out here<br>With nothing to keep it out.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What trees there were had died long since<br>For the lack of a steady rain, <br>They stood, grey, gaunt and twisted, like<br>Arthritic men, in pain, <br>She said she was going to grub them out<br>And plant fresh trees when she could, <br>Something with lots of leaves for shade<br>And water them, well and good.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I mentioned a couple of species that<br>Would grow at a furious pace, <br>Like the Australian willow, it <br>Was known for its speed, and grace, <br>She'd put some in when I passed again<br>And we talked of family trees, <br>She said that her Gran had left the place<br>To her, to do as she pleased.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘My people, back in the early days<br>Were some of the pioneers, <br>They built this cottage and tilled the soil<br>And they persevered for years.<br>But Gran took off for the city once<br>Her husband took ill, and died, <br>He's buried out in the back out there, <br>With his father, by his side.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She showed me the graves of her forefathers, <br>The stones were weathered and worn, <br>She'd tried to tidy them up a bit<br>Erected a limestone cairn, <br>‘They came and slaved and suffered here<br>And died, and followed suit, <br>That's why I came to save the place, <br>I felt like taking root.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I caught a glimpse of her eyes at that<br>And saw a glimmer of tears, <br>She was the last of the line of them, <br>These family pioneers, <br>She wasn't a striking beauty but<br>Had passion, guts and grace, <br>And that's when I fell in love with her<br>And I told her, to her face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She smiled and patted my hand: ‘You're sweet, <br>But you don't know me at all, <br>Maybe you'll get to know me, if<br>You keep on coming to call.'<br>So I did, on into the summer then, <br>And followed through to the fall, <br>But then I was sent away for months<br>To a farm where I couldn't call.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She had no phone, she had no mail<br>No electricity, <br>She spent her nights on a garden seat<br>With a lantern on a tree, <br>The summer had seen a blistering heat<br>But the fall brought on the rain, <br>It was well into winter by the time<br>I was able to call again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I found her out in the garden, where<br>She stood in a sort of trance, <br>I tried to engage her attention, but<br>She barely spared me a glance, <br>Her skin was coloured a shade of grey<br>And her legs were rough and stark, <br>Her feet had sunk in the mulch out there<br>And her ankles looked like bark.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I pulled at her hands but she simply leaned, <br>She swayed like a sapling bent, <br>Out from the tips of her fingers grew<br>Some strange disfigurement, <br>Her hair was tangled with creepers<br>That were snaking along her back, <br>I thought I could wake her with a kiss<br>But I seemed to have lost the knack.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I left her there in the garden, but<br>I see her from time to time, <br>The seasons come and the seasons go<br>But Lianne continues to climb, <br>Her clothes fell off, they were rotted through<br>Now she needs no type of suit, <br>Lianne's as busy as ever, <br>As she said, she's taking root.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">20 September 2012</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Lewis+Paget">David Lewis Paget</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365870" data-title="Taking Root de David Lewis Paget" data-description="I'd seen Lianne at her cottage door
When I'd walked the old bush track, 
The cottage had been abandoned, but
She was gradually bringing it back, 
She painted it and she patched it
There was nothing she couldn't do, 
I even saw her up on the roof
R..."></div>
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