Requiem for my Anglia

Born in Speke
cast from a hammering line
of male midwives
sprayed odenil green
with leather seating - cream
I remember the day
I drove you away
steering delicately through
the streets of Liverpool.
treating you to a run
through leafy Otterspool
and high octane fuel
from Steiner’s garage.

Then one, sad, sad day
no histrionics, you just faded away.
I tried for days to give you back
the spark of life
to no avail
so sad, I could never a Ford another you.

I wondered about a ferrous oxide funeral
but dignified as it is
it takes too long
and the worms may well have started on me
by then.

a nice meadow by willow trees
and water rills
would have been a fitting end
for you my metal friend.
but this is Liverpool
and I realised that it would have to be the crusher
last rite preparation for a new beginning
but unlike me who does not believe
at least you will experience
r e i n c a r n a t i o n

By B. Wimbridge