Thirty-three Kilometres from Benalla,
Along the Myrrhee road.
There is a little campsite,
It looks like it's freshly mowed.

It is camped in every Easter,
It has been for many years.
There have been many people in her,
Through lots of laughs and tears.

It's got a stony creek,
With a good water hole.
Sometimes strong, sometimes weak,
Some stones as…

Reflections in the water pass,
And so too do the days
Of all the years within my life
Not memory left, but haze.

As the wind blows gently now,
The ripples in the lake
Remind me of the decisions
Which I have had to make.

My life's a blur, just like the grass
Over the water clear,
I can't see…

Horses and Things was the first time I gathered some of my poetry together and put it in a book. I printed a number of these and gave them as gifts to family and friends.

A number of the poems in the book were…