When I was a little girl I would wander
through ancient woods and historic villages
admiration, reverence, longing to know
wishing, praying I could travel through time
with a yearning of how we got here.
Now, I flick through records and photographs
curious wonderment in my brown eyes
watching the branches stretch into history
stories of miners and farm labourers.
It really was another world.
If I was born in Victorian England
I might be a maid in the houses of Chelsea
or a farmers daughter without a trade
trying my hardest to simply exist.
Just another face in the crowd.
As the lines falter through time’s trees
mysteries remain; never to be resolved.
Ancestors circling around the globe
India, Australia, Wales and home
bequeathing a nomadic legend.
Inspired by one of my favourite television shows Who Do You Think You Are? and my passion for researching my ancestry.
Sitting on the stone steps of Parliament House
in my warm grey coat and snuggly scarf
clutching to my hot vanilla chai latte
as I watch brown leaves floating in the wind.
What a marvellous moment to be here!
To see, the world tick-tocking like clockwork.
Chatter echoes from the crowded cafes
as the trams jingle their morning songs.
Sometimes I stop – listen – and wonder
it’s a funny thing we do everyday
existing and living; playing the game
Is there meaning? And it’s not forty-two.
It feels like a never-ending story
where we’re born in the middle – missing
pieces of the beginning – a puzzle
that we spend our lives trying to work out.
Some say there are three things; life, death, taxes
but I think it’s human architecture
life for me, is Mufasa and Simba
it’s the story of how we all connect.
In a giant globe of activity
this world is an enigmatic story
that happens to feature humanity
and stepping on a butterfly changes history.
Charlie Ann Alford 
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