Nae mair, nae mair an evermair whit isna
couldna be.   Yon box will aye be empty
an aye da box is keyed.   Nae mair, nae mair
an evermair whit wisna winna be.
Or here or dere an aye some wye an gaaderin
lik waater,  ee boy wi clear blue een wid hae
tae hide his fear o lachter,  anidder bairn 
a story endin happy never aifter,
till eence upon a time displaces aa
da idder times an aa da possibilities
is cut doon tae ee line,  a box ta hadd
some emptiness an ean ta redd up pain.
Moved on.   Moved on as if it’s geen, in boxes
at’s been laikin,  dreepin on dis empty ean.


© Gordon Dargie 2009

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