It's all ova

This morning I spent about half an hour sanding down that little wooden egg you once gave me. As I gently polished I thought of you. I wondered where you are. It's nice to hear from you by email sometimes and good to know you are somewhere in Melbourne and not Timbuktu.
Over the years my little child has enjoyed rolling this particular wooden egg around. Future football player perhaps? I sanded off a few years worth of dirt and scuff marks (though a few deep nicks remain). Holding the egg I started humming that song, "She's got the whole world, in her hands..."