Here on Coogee Beach

Every Tuesday sure enough they’re there
You’ll find them – well you know
Behind the locked door – behind the swing doors
Their brown-as-berry faces and crisscrossed backs
The stripes worn for times done and spent
Down here down on Coogee Beach
It’s always a laugh, always a giggle
The stories and recounts of their youth, their happy days
The boys, the men, the people who passed through
Their lives, their memories – so quietly listening
You learn through them: how it is to live a life
How it is to love, to lose and to love again.
The time is passing, but it’s true
You’re stalling, delaying – you want to know
The end to the tale – what happened next….
So bending once more over well-ties laces
Giving nonchalant observance to the cheery narrators
Cheekily eavesdropping – respectfully smiling
Now it’s told, you’ve had your fix
They don’t mind – the audience is a lift
Their twinkly eyes and great guffaws
Of laughter and acknowledgment of what’s past
What’s gone before – it can’t be changed or altered now
But next week “round eleven” it’ll be brought to life again
They know sure enough they’ll be there
Next Tuesday – just past 11
And sometimes on a Thursday too -they might meet –
The same deal; the change and dip ; the splash and out
For it’s more than a routine, more than a plan
To be together and share at the club down at Coogee Beach.