Hello there,
It's Mandy here.
I'm going to read you a poem from my collection.
Which is called Old Blue Car.
And this is the title poem,
Old Honda.
Old blue car.
What if you could fly?
What if?
One sunny afternoon as you slept off your latest speeding fine in the shade of the station wall What if your dreams reminded you how?
Tired of Tesco's car park.
And the twenty-minute Keithley run.
Wearied by all the rights and the endless pantomime of the traffic lights.
It wouldn't take long to weigh things up.
The moss on your near side window and what it might mean The boys who snapped your aerial and could come back.
Next month's MOT.
Our shared fear of the word scrap Better perhaps to just take off.
On the Addingham bypass and head for the open skies,
However empty their promises.
Shed your tires one by one like hot shoes above the fields of cows
