Up Beacon Hill, Via the Sconce

 

I wake up, to converse with my feet,

asking them, “where should we go?”

They reply so enthusiastically,

“up the hill, we shall stroll!”

So readily clothed, for the clime,

I shall climb, with a joyous manner,

though before we ascend, I need some time,

to see a familiar place of glamour.

I need to see, the Sconce again,

to ensure that there’s still no war,

gladly, the answer I get is no pain,

but something, I adore.

The congregation; of man and dog,

makes a very happy scene,

thus, a contented image is logged,

stoking some warmth in me.

“Hey! Stop stalling you, we’ve got to rise!”

My hungry feet exclaim,

“Alright! Let us reach for the prize!”

I respond, to put them in the frame.

 

Through a concrete forest we pass,

crossing over Sleaford road,

then before us, we see our task,

it’s our energy’s time, to unload.

The steepness, does takes its toll

from the Co-Op, to Cafferata Way,

but I’ll shut up, to know my role,

and that is to simply clamber today.

I pretend, that I am at Scafell Pike,

to create a tone, that’s grander,

but with the ease; the others pedal their bikes,

I should stop with such slander.

Finally, the road flattens out,

I look for a welcome bench,

but no such luck, I shall remain stout,

by way of my calves being clenched.

“I think you will find a seat in Coddington”

My feet do suggest,

after such a realisation, I gulp the oxygen,

to become more refreshed.

Under the bridge, I hear a rumble,

the A1’s very busy today,

to deliver more of the urban jungle,

so that man can continue to play.

Another mile or so, I wander,

then a chair, I do see,

where I can rest a moment, to ponder,

how long has it been?

I look up at the sign-post,

to see, that my feet were right,

as dear Coddington is my host,

after my Beacon Hill flight.

I look at both my feet and watch,

and I realise; what I’ve got to do,

after another gulp of air is washed,

I start my descent, to continue.

Though my brain; composes my feet’s lament,

it has been a delight to behold,

though the gusts, have not been our friend,

I am far from cold.

Which means I can summarise,

to give you; the moral of this tome,

you know that you’ve had a good walk guys,

when the road signs, guide you home!