Tokens, tarps and painty jeans

Tokens, tarps and painty jeans

Sunny September, early spring.

Halloween prep is in full swing.

Cut grass, eucalypts, wattle in the air. 

I’ll pull up out front and I know you’ll be there. 

In an old gi and bluey, or maybe just your tan, 

Soaking up sunshine, hammer in hand. 


You’ll pull out your earbuds, look up with a smile

And skip to a playlist we haven’t heard in a while.

Or hanging from a branch, volcano trapeze.

Tunes from your phone float away on the breeze.


You hand me some paint and a brush with a grin;

I share your vision and know where to begin.


Treasure hunt, giant squid. 

Walk the plank, pirate ship!

 

Volcano, battle car, zombie abyss. 

End of the world! Apocalypse!


Haunted house, Ghost train.

Mudslip hazard – the year it rained!


Pyramid, sphinx, hieroglyphics craze,

Mummies and a booby-trapped Maze.


Alien autopsy, Spaceship.

Out of this world, what a trip!


Campfire stories, nightmares.

Spider cave, dementor: we’ve got the scares!


Breathe!

Mad rush, costumes, the crowd arrives.

Pull off the covers – it’s show time!

Squeals of joy, the beaming smiles,

Never in question that it was all worthwhile.


Three months of work.

Three hours of berserk.


And 

Ten.

Thousand.

Pushups.


October is here, the clock is ticking. 

The tarps are up, the kids are peeking.

Hard rubbish collection, Powertools, 

Apprentices, undertakers, halloween crew.


You’re not in the yard, but I hear you humming

I can feel your madness, halloween vibes thrumming. 

And if I listen to the wind, I can still hear your laugh 

You’re always here, our ghost of Halloweens past.

Want to learn more about Cameron Gill’s journey, his legacy, and his legacy projects? CLICK HERE for Cam’s official Facebook legacy page. We have heaps more of his story to share, so like and follow to stay updated.

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