Borrowdale Poem by Paul Reed

This winding road
Long-lost in my dreams,
Going around bends
Running beside streams;

O, that I could spend my life
With not a care,
Travelling along you
In the fresh, rainy air;

Not going to cities
Not stoppng at lights,
No built-up zones
No man-made heights;

Framed only by trees,
Mountains and hills,
Gorged in the sunshine
Swathed in the chills;

Yours is a pure route
Even if ending nowhere,
O, that I could join you
To please take me there.