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When I was a child,
the B1043
left the A1
just north of where I lived,
and wandered,
old and worn,
bumpily and windily,
through the local centre
to Cromwell's town.
Now,
those old roads are unnumbered,
and the B1043
runs with the new motorway,
as if an apprentice
learning about traffic.
How dare it!
How dare it grow
from old to young,
from wrinkled line
to long and straight,
how dare a childhood fixture
regain youth.
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