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road-poem

Road

Travelling.
The sky is a brilliant blue.
Cars and lorries pass through my peripheral vision.
Sheep and cows walk through the fields; I point them out to the children in the back.
We smile, laugh and sing ‘baa baa black sheep’, but we never see a black sheep.
The steering wheel feels light and sensitive to my every desire.
A song comes on the radio; the volume is turned up for this one.
The grey road and white lines never end as we journey to a place of happiness.
Trees populate the edge of the curb, they look significant.
The wife talks about a problem at work, so I listen to her concerning words.
We find a solution, but I know she will never converse these sentences – in her employment world.
Everyone falls asleep.
I’m left on my own, to drive across the land, with the thumps of the intermittent bumps in the road.
I enter my mind for a little while, thinking about when I was 22, dancing in a night club and drinking pints of larger with my Ben Sherman shirt on.
Slowing down for traffic lights, we stop – I can’t remember the last 22 minutes of this journey.
Where are we and how did we get here?
A glance at Google Maps keeps me on track through our 7-hour and 22-minute destination.
One lonely petrol station awaits our arrival with a green hill as a backdrop.
Sweets and crips get tumbled into the back to giggles of “I want that”.
She pours a coffee with a smile and a wink and passes me a cheese and tomato sandwich
(She helps me stuff in some sea salt and black cracked pepper crips between the layers of seeded brown bread).
The view is becoming magnificent! With hills and valleys reaching through the car window.
I’ve never seen green looking so lush with lines of hand-placed slate walls separating the blades of grass.
I turn the temperature up to 22°C; look at the 58mpg (‘happy with that’); the digital clock reads 19:22 – “Not long now”.
The roads start to narrow and become less considerate.
Tractors slow the pace with dangerous drivers overtaking on the bends.
I swear in my head so the kids can’t hear the language.
A sign tells us we are near.
Earth’s sky is turning into a shepherd’s delight.
The children point out a bright star next to the Moon; I know it’s Venus but decide to keep it a secret.
I’ve missed the turning left.
I don’t say anything as the wife tells me over and over again.
The gates are open to this holiday destination.
I pull in slow and find a parking spot next to the reception.
“We made it”.
Everyone celebrates with a little cheer.
This road comes to a beginning and an end.

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david irvine

Do your own thing in your own way and get what you came here for. I have a little book collection on Amazon - Enjoy!

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