1Earthling

Mum mixed up the morning batter,
standing by the kitchen heat.
Pikelets cooking on the griddle,
then stacked upon the plate.

Dad drove from house to house,
pikelets packed beside the seat,
driving down the bush tracks
and up the mountain roads.

They all worked from day to day,
different roads but much the same.
What they earned, what they knew,
carried them the whole way through.

The line kept moving year by year,
but no one called it out.
One step further than before,
till old ways didn’t hold the same.

She left at twelve. No school now.
She wasn't the only one.
Hair tied up, shoes on.
Caught the early line to town.

Lunch wrapped in wax paper.
Coin purse folded in her coat.
Arrives at the shop on time,
ready for the day's work.

She learned how to wrap shoes,
tie the boxes up with string,
sweep the floor before the close,
wipe the dust from everything.

Boxes stacked and dusting done.
Still time to make the train.
Same ride home past tired shops.
Same path six times a week.

They all worked from day to day,
different roads but much the same.
What they earned, what they knew,
carried them the whole way through.

The line kept moving year by year,
but no one called it out.
One step further than before,
till old ways didn’t hold the same.

Returning to the canvas walls,
fruits of their labor there.
Shared meals, news and hopes
for the life they were making.

Nobody called it falling short.
Nobody asked for anything more.
That was just the way things were,
back before the rules moved on.

They all worked from day to day,
different roads but much the same.
What they earned, what they knew,
carried them the whole way through.

The line kept moving year by year,
but no one called it out.
One step further than before,
till old ways didn’t hold the same.