ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

YOU'LL NEVER TIRE OF NEVERTIRE


I’d never tire of Nevertire though it might tire of me,
this tiny township on the edge of dry grey plains
of saltbush on the western side, and deserts wide and free
and it’s not a place that ever gets much rain.

I could retire to Nevertire but houses there are few
and the Ute’s now like its owner – winding down.
They don’t sell tyres at Nevertire you have to go to Narromine
a place where silos dominate the town.

You drive past fields of cotton, pass trucks going to the gin,
fully laden with white foaming locks - this year
has been a good one – strong performance everywhere
high expectations of a bumper crop I hear.

You do the chores you have to do in Narromine today,
throw spare tyres into the Ute with bales of hay,
and head back to the whistle stop that’s known as Nevertire
and wish you never had to go away.

The old Ute fully laden chugs along now under strain
but there’s no need of haste we can just plug along.
Well get back home to Nevertire in due course once again.
Nevertire‘s home. Gilgandra - I’ve moved on.


Maureen Clifford © 06/11