Bob Beagrie


Into boxes she packs away the years
Stripping shelves of this relic, that trinket
Things to fashion a future to call her’s
And to fill a space that owes its debt
To some never-never land beyond :
2nd star to the left, straight on till morn,
From where, one dawn, our hands joined
By wee pinkies, we stumbled, made home,
Bound by a secret we dared not speak
By name, ringing within our shell-likes,
A coloured line, clear without a break
Forming this new Earth’s circumference;
‘Though we thought ourselves amphibious
We now dry off, kiss, agree it was delicious.


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