She grew up on the land with cattle and horses,

Brothers and sisters, and wide open spaces.

A girl in the sixties, she was beckoned to the call

Of city life, and the need to conform,

to society’s ways.


A house in suburbia, working full time,

raising her children, she was not happy at all.

This nagging doubt she’d had all along,

She was a loner, she rebelled, she didn’t conform.


Twenty years later, she realised the truth,

She was a farmer’s daughter, who did not fit in,

To the boxes and crowds, of society’s groups.


The freedom of choice of where one lives,

Is a financial thing that may not be easily changed,

But the freedom of spirit of knowing who you are,

A farmer’s daughter in suburbia.


She smiles as the neighbours stop and stare,

Her with the saddle and boots and horse in the yard,

But they watch in awe, as she mounts her horse,

And hums softly to herself, as she gallops off.


There is still a big paddock across the road,

She kept horses there all those years ago,

And a cow to milk some time ago.

They pulled up in their cars

The children came out to see,

This woman milking a cow in suburbia.

Written by Elizabeth Kilpatrick


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