A Guilty Pleasure - Poem by Stephen Wylie
How smoothly I swoop across a land
Haunted by mist.
Green and brown flow swiftly past,
An eerie dream of freedom.
A sonorous drone engulfs me,
Bearing me forward.
A more virtuous past,
Wrapped in global concern,
Slips away behind.
Enraptured now by machinery,
Thrust on me by circumstance;
Or was it chance?
How to refuse this delicious temptation,
When I must get to work?
Poverty the goad, effortless speed the allure,
Rubber's soft whispers soothe.
The road to Whitwick is paved with bad intentions.
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