Racing Back to London
Veering through Northern valleys
Nocturnal nomad chasing lights
Squinting through misty glass at
Solitude
Rural black
Hills rising raucously
Perfidious silhouettes whispering
Shadows looming
GPS. Reroute. M1.
Settings were fucked - avoid motorways?
No wonder
Back to the linear path
Diving towards the sprawling metropolis
Hours to go.
Adjusting frequencies -
The Wind Cries Mary.
I'm sailing on her currents
Defying the deluge
No signs of my baby yet
Window. Just slightly.
Flame. Idle exhalations.
Giant on the periphery
Nearly puts me out of my misery
Brake. Horn. Middle finger.
Miles to go
Time is the silent foe
Speed is the viol-
<Deleted User> (13762)
Sat 30th Sep 2017 09:04
enjoyed this Harry. I often find inspiration driving on motorways. It's what service stations are for - stopping and writing. Shame there's not more of them but then my journey might take twice as long. Glad you stopped here at the Write Out Loud services. Welcome!
Colin.