Eloping Poem by Gordon D Wilkinson

On this pitch-black night, I came for you my love
Your case handed down from the window above
Clambering down to my waiting arms
I stroke your hair until your heart calms
Into the car as quiet as mice
Starting up we are off in a trice
Though those twisting lanes quite fast
How long will this lead of ours last?
Racing on to the motorway, we go
Rocking round corners to and fro
North we must go; glad there’s no traffic to slow
Speeding away with no delay
No police sitting back we pray
Across the border to Scotland we go
To Gretna Green fast, not slow
Later that day the preacher, we see
Married quickly, so happy to be