Come back Dusty.
I was driving through downtown Darlington, slowly.
It was the early morning traffic that slowed me down.
Drifting through Darlington,
Watching the people scurrying up and down the pavements
Hurrying somewhere or nowhere, but scurrying anyway.
The radio was on but I wasn’t listening
The first few notes of a song punched it’s way into my empty mind.
One could recognise her voice instantly
Probably my favourite Dusty song.
Her voice sent shivers down my spine, I loved it
And loved the song.
‘Come back Dusty’ I thought to myself.
I would have loved to have seen her in concert, but never did.
She sang on, through my radio
I couldn’t seem to hear the words any more,
I could just hear that amazing soulful voice, piercing my heart.
‘Come back Dusty’
Why is it that so many good and talented people go before they should?
The song finished and I turned the radio off rather than listen to something else.
Me and the ghost of Dusty Springfield cruised along the road.
I thought of others
Karen Carpenter, the beautiful silky voiced young American singer.
What would she have sounded like now had she lived to grace our lives?
So many of my generation.
Gone before they should.
Just me and Dusty now on the A66
Not quite as romantic as Route 66
But it’s all we have.
We’re going back.
Me and Dusty.
The sky is moody, black clouds carrying rain
But for the moment we are in sunshine.
The song runs again in my mind
And for a moment I hear Karen Carpenter singing backing vocals.
Just angels singing in my mind.
The passenger seat is empty.
Come back Dusty.
P.S. If you have never heard Dusty singing ‘Going back’ treat yourself. Close your eyes and listen.