Poem: Gizzy

A poem remembering good times in Gisborne.

Good times in Gisborne, when I
Was young. We’d get the bus up
and back — listening to tapes

all the way. We’d watch movies,
play pool, swim, even golf a little.
It all meant a lot. Those good times

in Gisborne, when I was young.
But nothing lasts forever, especially
good times. That feeling of nothing

actually mattering, of everything
being brilliant. Everything has its
season. And I’m not saying this

is the reason, but I’ve never been
back. I left Gisborne where it is —
wouldn’t recognise it now at all.

But I remember the sunshine, the
beach, and the good times. It did
seem they might last forever…