By Leonie, 78. Port Fairy, VIC
Empty factories and the rail lines promised not to tell
As we explored the inner sanctum of that steel and iron playground
Palm trees lined the railway, growing low with fronds that formed a veil
Where we could hide with bikes and all, the two of us not likely to be found
We rode the streets of Footscray on Saturdays and holidays as well
And sometimes on a Sunday after Mass we could explore that holy ground
The fruit shop by the railway was filled with crates of fruit and veg for sale
More were stacked outside by Footscray’s favourite son, hero of the town
Or tossed aboard the pick up truck and delivered to the customer at home
That was Teddy Whitten with muscles on his back all rippling in the round
His biceps bulged like footballs as he hoisted bags of spuds with ease
Like there was nothing packed inside but pillows filled with down
And we would chase that truck at speed on wobbly wheels sucking in the breeze
And he would wave and laugh at us until that old grey truck turned out of bounds
Photo: Map of Footscray, 1951
Terrific.