A Secret Space
There was shelter –
An upturned water tank
With an entrance hole —
My secret space
In the brittle summer bush
Where I’d hide,
Dark and bruised and splintered.
In those childhood days
I was an outlaw of sorts,
Travelling alone,
Not fitting anywhere,
Listening to cicadas throbbing
With song,
Beyond words,
Wanting nothing
But the arc of my mother’s arms
Dianne Bates
Australian Children’s Poetry 
A sad and beautiful poem, Di.
Doesn’t sound like a very happy childhood, Di! Poor little thing…
Poignant and very beautiful Di.
Beautifully written, Di.
A very moving poem – more so as it builds to the image of the very thing wanted and needed – but not there.
I really appreciate your comments. Life as a child and teen was hard, but since meeting Bill (Condon), it has become magical; I treasure every day with him and my wonderful, kind friends.