My nostalgic heart is
enamoured of abandoned

reached along hump-ridge
tracks. Spectacular sea-views
the rusting remnants

of logging machinery
a locomotive stranded
on a narrow-gauge line

leading absolutely nowhere
a crumbling centennial hall
overwhelmed by creepers

an anomalous tramper’s hut.
The bush is inclined to erase
all trace of the sturdy folk

who grafted here. Only
a tiny misshapen love-heart
cut into the bole of a rata tree

is testament to the robust
lives and passions
that perished here.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist