Vanishing Beauty

In Narrabarba's hidden, sacred glade,

Where nature's secrets in shadows played,

The Narrabarba Wattle once stood in a crowd,

So tall, so brave, so very proud.

Its golden blossoms constantly adored,

As birds emerging from the branches happily soared,

A home for those grand and small,

A wattle loved and shared by all.

Narrabarba Wattle, resilient and scared,

In your volatile beauty, stories are shared,

Beautiful golden yellow blossoms sprout so pure,

Contrasting the darkness they actually endure.

In a land that’s cruel, yet swarms with life,

A testament to Mother Nature’s endless strife,

The Narrabarba Wattle stands as weakening flora,

Endangered, vulnerable, struggling becomes its aura.

A victim of change and heedless might,

Its suffering obscured by urban light,

For in the lesson of this wattle’s fate,

We learn to help it thrive, survive and rejuvenate.