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
