…and an old heaven


And yet, I know there is another way:

A tangled net of narrow country lanes
And backroads I know better than myself
And could ride blindfold; every hill
And hedge, each field and farmhouse, every curve
And corner as familiar as my face;
A constant heaven I can call my own
Where seasons roll yet decades leave no mark
My past and present blurring as I pass.

This road is in my head and heart and legs;
Its every inch is graven in my skin.
I’ve sweated through its summers, felt its chill
Chew through my clothing, biting at my bones.

And as all other things are lost, this place
Might be all that remains to me; a road
That I can always take on trust, forget
That hellish other beaten out for me.

Where I may live and wander as I choose.
A paradise that I can never lose.

5 thoughts on “…and an old heaven

  1. I would like to use this poem at Dad’s funeral, a life long cyclist (last peddling at 86 but forced to stop at that point by a fractured femur from which he never regained mobility). I would show it as : “credited to “gonecycling”: https://gonecyclingagain.wordpress.com/about-2/)”. Is that acceptable to you?

    It just perfect expresses one of Dad’s greatest joys in life.

    Many thanks for your inspiring work – it speaks volumes.

    • Dear Mike

      Thank you for getting in touch; sincere condolences on your loss.

      You’re most welcome to use the poem; thank you very much for asking. It’s inspired by the roads and lanes in my corner of East Sussex, where I’ve lived and ridden for more than 20 years. My ambition is to be like your Dad, still going strong in my 80s, but I’ve got a few years to go yet!

      As it happens, this is the second piece of mine that’s been used at the funeral of a fellow cyclist; it’s humbling to know that something I’ve written captures thoughts, emotions and ideas others can recognise and relate to.

      With very best wishes


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