I’m a Ford Fiesta, painted light blue,
With, may I add, a metallic hue.
I’m a cute little car and I’m pretty smart;
I’m a car which ranks pretty high in the charts.
As I ride on the back of the recovery truck,
I feel as if I am pretty down on my luck.
For me, the future looks pretty uncertain:
For me, I hope it’s not the final curtain.
I served my owner for quite a few years;
Little did I know it would all end in tears.
I used to love driving along the roads,
Carrying passengers and their various loads.
I used to wait for them outside the shops,
And, outside schools, I would often stop.
I would drive along for many a mile,
Sharing their lives and the odd smile.
I loved life with them: I felt I belonged,
So, I’m wondering where it all went so wrong.
I hadn’t any dents and was as good as new;
I just can’t believe that our relationship’s through.
I am feeling unloved, alone, and so lost;
Surely my body isn’t gonna be squashed?
My once warm engine is now stone cold,
And now I’m wondering what my future holds.
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Comments about this poem (Recovery by Angela Wybrow )
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