Hi Lin. Your poem is that of a true Yorkshire patriot. We stayed in Bridlington on holiday one year when the children were young. It was a nice seaside town, though very busy then. We also visited Hull from there, but did not have a lot of time. X
PW, hi. I especially like "a token". Simple but effective, sad but happy.
ON THE WAY HOME
He followed in his footsteps, one-two, one-two,three,
His mate on up ahead ,in a hurry, with the key
To reach their destination,not so far from here,
Put their feet up once again, have another beer.
His head was floating round, in no uncertain way,
While his powers of concentration, along with him did sway.
They both exchanged some banter, while he trudged along behind -
It had been a grand farewell, they'd chatted, drunk and dined.
He thought about their evening, as the street lights shone out bright,
All his workmates from the office, relaxed when out the night.
They shouted back and forwards, his mate ahead and he,
It had been a real good party, as everyone could see.
He saw his mate now turn around, and shout out from the heights...
The taxi was approaching, fast enough to make the lights.
He stepped on to the crossing, unaware of traffic there,
Next thing, he was catapulted, right into the air.
He did not cry; he did not die.