‘In a house far away, right at the end of a long dusty road deep in the bush at the back of Palm Beach, lived three sisters with their mother, their father, and sometimes their Uncle Paul. The three sisters were called Elizabeth, Frances and Matilda.’
The dog licked the crumbs that had fallen onto the ground. “You’re not from here, are you?” “No,” said the dog, “I’m not from here.” “Where do you come from, then?” “From far away,” said the dog. “Are you lost?” The dog thought carefully. There was probably a lot more cake back where she came from. And there were probably all the other tasty things he had dreamed of in windy barns on his travels: crispy chicken skin, bread with liver pâté, cream pudding and milk rice.
“The wind, coming to the city from far away, bring it unusual gifts, notice by only a few sensitive souls, such as hay-fever victims, who sneeze at the pollen from flowers of other lands.”
“At School
Five little Girls, sitting on a form,
Five little Girls, with lessons to learn,
Five little Girls, who, I’m afraid,
Won’t know them a bit when they have to be said.
For little eyes are given to look
Anywhere else than on their book;
And little thoughts are given to stray
Anywhere-ever so far away.”