The Charming Creek Walkway
The Charming Creek Walkway lay up in the hills,
Beckoning us, calling us, come for some thrills.
Our party of seven with children quite young,
Thought one way to walk would be quite enough fun.
We could drive up the hill to the top of the track,
Then all of our walk would be eased coming back.
So crammed in the car, on road rutted and rough,
We drove up that road, but the going got tough,
That steaming car stopped as it tried to protest
And made us all wait while it had a wee rest.
It cooled down at last and we got to the top
Then off we all went, not wanting to stop.
But stop we did lots, there was so much to do,
With rusty old boilers and engines to view.
Old iron, wooden sleepers, lay littered about,
At each new discovery the boys gave a shout.
We followed the train track through tunnels, by rivers,
Past waterfalls, bushes, and over swing bridges.
“I’m proud of you kids; you are sturdy and tough,”
I said to the boys when the track was quite rough.
In the sun by the bridge, we stopped for our lunch,
While the sulphur smell wafted, our buns we did munch.
More tunnels and bridges and slushy wet places,
A robin so friendly put smiles on our faces.
Down, down through the trees, it seemed such a long way,
Then we were out of the bush, with a view of the bay.
Right down at the bottom, a coal train was filling,
We watched for a while, with none of it spilling.
A short walk on the road took us back to our nest,
Our tired legs made it and then most could rest,
With the car at the top, the men’s day wasn’t done,
So they drove up the hill to bring it back down.
And for me, the tired Nana, while they went for the car,
I put up my feet and said “Oh, where’s the spa?”
by Lois Farrow
Poem: © 2007 Lois Farrow. All rights reserved.
Photo: © 2007 Dean Farrow. All rights reserved.