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I thought it had been a year or so since I was last on here - was astonished to find it was more like two! Apologies for my absence - life got in the way, been on a bit of a journey, you know. I hope you are all well  :)


Hartshead Moor


This motorway, my eastwards trail to freedom,

To Tyneside, York, or sunny seaside fun,

In accents broad as acres, voices calling,

And when they call, I answer at a run.


Wherever we were headed we would rest up,

Re-group, refresh, re-set at Hartshead Moor,

Escape the ant-hill mob and masses madding,

To lift our coffee cups and toast the dawn.


And hearts turn heads from everyday existence,

In ways that make us think they always could,

But sometimes life conspires, exhausts and tires.

And breakdown trucks can't do a bit of good.


I saw the journey, not the destination.

I never thought we'd need to hit the brakes,

On different pages, even different road-maps,

The warning lights came on a bit too late.


One hundred thousand miles of extra dreaming,

The Welcome Break then came at quite a cost,

On Blackstone Edge I felt your darkness falling,

And on a road I know so well - was lost.

◄ Extra Time


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Chris Bainbridge

Sat 27th Mar 2021 19:03

Thanks for your kind comments Greg. That route certainly has some atmosphere!

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Greg Freeman

Fri 26th Mar 2021 15:21

I well remember driving over the M62 one winter morning, many years ago, from Yorkshire to a football match at Bolton. There was snow on the tops and it was beautiful. One of the few places in our traffic-jammed isle where you suddenly find yourself seeing further ... thanks for your poem, Chris, and for evoking the memory.

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