Catching the Train from Scarborough
You gave me a lift to the station
With just minutes on the railway clock.
You stopped with a flourish in the car park.
Our life is a roundabout.
Your name I said leaving the front seat
As we came to our usual fork.
Your smile was in the takeaway coffee
I drank slowly, all the way, to York.
published in Scarborough Review Issue 8, March/April 2014