Peter’s Poem

He’s out there walking quickly – every gully, every gorge,

He’s out there sitting quietly – looking inward, looking forward.

He’s out there contemplating with his cheeky grin – his smokes.

He’s out there over Tarro’s – he went out there with the blokes.

He’ll be walking to the places – places that he loved to see,

He’ll travel through the Gap , the Yards – he’ll make Yerranderie.

And he’ll keep on walking southwards – to the finish – looking long,

Through Colley’s Flat to Stockyard Creek – then on to Mittagong.

And he’ll finish one man’s journey – the one that was so near.

The one he never started – the one he held so dear.

And when the trip is ended – the final adding of the sum.

It’s then you’ll find him resting – near a waratah – a gum.

And how’s a journey measured?

When all is said and done it’s not measured by the things you’ve lost,

it’s not measured by what you’ve won.

It’s measured by the passion, the tenacity, the strength.

The sounding of an inner depth – never measured by the length.

So we’ll cheer him while he’s walking – every gully, every gorge

And we’ll sit there with him quietly – looking inward, looking forward.

We’ll reminisce beside him – we’ll laugh, he’ll have his smokes.

We’ll be out there over Tarro’s – he’ll be out there with the blokes.