Poem 129 of 230:  TO A DRIVER - AUTUMN 2000

 

As Lancashire fields

    Became flood plains,

And still-worse storm yields

    Caused Southern pains,

I walked up Bolton roads

    (A new contract,

I’d again changed abodes),

    Feeling quite whacked.

 

For, while mini-cabs

    Passed-by quickly,

I received the sharp jabs

    Of cold, gusty,

Snow-filled air in my face;

    Till a driver,

At just outside his place,

    Asked, “Going far?”

 

Driving through the snowstorm

    To my new work

(Diverting from your norm,

    Ending my murk),

You were a kind fellow;

    So, from my flat

(The walk home was mellow),

    More thanks for that.

 

(C) David Franks 2003 - https://walkaboutsverse.blogspot.com