Inching up the Mile End Road.

Inching up the Mile End Road.

Pinching a space here, losing one there.

Passing the old St Cements hospital site,

I worked there, just for a while,

In the old days,

When we believed in finding ways

To keep people well

Whatever the cost.

Now that argument has been lost.

And they sold off the land

For affordable housing.

But affordable for who?

Not me or you.

But hold the page,

We still retain

The old frontage,

It is a listed building,

One day they will replace the gilding.

Although as we all know,

It is not the gold,

But the loss of the old ways,

That we can never replace.

I am caught up in a snails pace,

Rat race and crawl past

The ancient Bow Church,

So close I can see the bells,

Sometimes I can hear them chime,

But not this time.

I fly along, for a couple of miles

Past Hackney Wick,

Onto the inter change,

And glance across at

The still very strange,

Anish Kapoor installation.

A gift to the nation,

On the Olympic site,

Lit up at night,

For some reason.

West Ham will play football

There from next season.

And on the homeward stretch,

Nose to tail,

The cross wind, close to a gale,

And my phone

Pings, with a sigh,

It happens without fail

When I am driving.

First is a call,

Then a text, comes next,

My wife at a guess.

Too much of a risk to read it.

As we pick up speed

Under the M25

Junction 27.

And slow down again,

As a lane is closed,

For an accident,

With a truck,

Out of luck.

Rolling over, going too fast

On the entry slip

To the M11.

It caused him to tip

His load, across the road,

Pallets of sand

Create a beach head,

Thankfully nobody is dead.

And we inch along

For a mile or two.

It takes an age,

So many faces

Contorted with rage.

Until we move on again

And in a gentle glide

Along a country lane

I finally park by your side

My engine so hot

From the journey,

And as it stops,

I breathe a huge sigh

Of relief,

At least I have made it home again,

Before the onset of rain.