She was born and raised by the Pacific Ocean,
went to sleep to the sound of its lullaby.
The same lullaby kept her friends awake when they stayed over,
the crashing of the breakers.
Ā From her house you could see all the way to Dunedin.
To the North, the harbor and headland;
to the South, the Nuggets lighthouse.
Ā In summer, when morning sun gleamed on the far away ocean surface,
she knew they'd go swimming.
Her mum would watch from above the steps,
with her white legs and her scaly, dry skin.
Ā Once they got caught in a small rip and panicked.
Her mum hitched her skirt and launched in like a mother chook,
pulling all her children to the edges.
Ā Other days she would walk for miles along the beach,
disappearing with her friend to look for Paua shells.
Theyād find the little bubbles of seaweed and pop them.
Cattle would eat the pongy, dried seaweed.
Ā During summer, her beach was invaded by people owning batches.
Her mum called them the āCrib Peopleā and they came with their lawnmowers and pets.
One family had a girl whose skin would turn charcoal brown.
Ā A boy wandered off, leaving his family uninformed,
and his mother walked up and down the sand calling his name.
āAlastair!ā she called, but in her posh voice it sounded like āAlice-Dearā
He was a very naughty boy.
Ā Sometimes the āCrib Peopleā would light bonfires on the beach at night.
She watched from her window and thought they were worshiping Viking gods with their violent flames.
On New Yearās Eve they let off sky rockets that mingled with the lights from the Korean squid boats.
Ā Her little corner of the world was call Moanaririā
meaning angry seaā or just Bull Creek.
The summer was magical because she lived beside the sea,
it was her half gallon quarter acre pavlova Pacific paradise.
