Weather my love

Baby, the weather of my love is changing,
I see it in my skies,
in the way their colours thaw as we
move through our seasons,
spinning rose yarns
for our African birds to
sing, flapping constellations
flying deeper south;


you say
it’s too soon to believe
in this fairy tale,
you fear the iceberg
while I swim with the whales.

But baby, the weather of your love is changing
I see it in your waters,
in the way we curve and bend our sails
towards its unchartered borders;
my starved oars now lap
to the soft stroke of skin
and the calm flow of your rivers;
as we re-arrange our bodies
around new alphabets,
sounds once foreign
now as home as coffee stained
cups and mismatched socks;


You say you’re too scared
of our fairy tale,
and keep finding beasts
every time I see beauty.

But baby, the weather of our love is changing,
I see it in our wind
how its eager scent fragments
its bluebells along our unguarded coastlines

and in-between lines.

how its course has grown too big
for the breeze
that once flicked its tail at us
like a question
caught by surprise.


You say
you don’t deserve
this fairy tale;
you see a pauper,
where I see a prince.

But baby,
just maybe

if you
look beyond the fraying
covers of your own story,
and step into my woods,
you will find the trail
to your own crowning glory,

because with you
my shadow shies
away from its lonely
so I can become your only.

With you, I am no longer
a love or darling on a list
a stopwatch around a finger
a hole left after every punch.

Baby you may not believe me,
but you are the only fairy tale
prince I’ve ever wanted to kiss

and I hope you’re still
around not to miss

the moment
when the weather of your love

when the colour
of your skies thaws
with our




Written and performed for Mother Tongue – Women speak, Melbourne’s acclaimed spoken word event.


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