Frances Macaulay Forde
Poem by Frances Macaulay Forde
Red used to be my favourite colour.
I'd just get Tinkerbell (my 1983 Mitsubishi Colt)
cruising nicely at sixty kilometres and hour
I'd have to slow down.
Pump the breaks.
Change gears gingerly in case her clutch drops out...
An old girl now, she needs TLC...
takes her time to build up speed,
then I see red.(Or orange.)
But, once she's there (sixty K's) she sings like a bird.
I think it reminds her of her youth.
I've tried dressing her up (covering the rust) .
The silvers don't match and I know she feels the shame.
The petrol pump makes her feel better.
Once I inser that nozzle,
she almost smiles.
Her seat greets me tenderly
and we smoothly swing away,
high on fumes.
a young man washed her windows.
She sparkled and purred.
Yes.Red used to be my favourite colour.
Now mottled shades of silver have loyal appeal!
Please NOTE: in retirement I have closed most of my web pages including francesmacaulayforde and poetscornerwa. Both of these pages have now been taken over by a bot. However, I have retained my Wordpress BLOG or my ETSY shop.
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