When I am old I shall drive a Fiat Punto
and keep a rug and basket on the back seat
with a flask and biscuits, for emergencies.
Time will be mine without you my dear;
my second pair of eyes in left hand command.
I shall be regal and heads will turn
at my rinse, set and finish so trim, and
I shall cruise, at twenty two, down the main road through town,
with an entourage processing behind.
I shall signal well before left or right is in sight and
turn with due diligence and care.
I shall reverse or nose dive at an angle when parking;
a precise ninety degree demonstration.
Yes, time will be mine without you my dear,
to gauge our distance and schedule.
No kids to taxi and no nine to five rush hour.
No trains or planes to dash for.
The engine won’t squeal with a foot to the floor, it will purr and function serenely.
The flask will stay in its place, all the way,
to the library, bowls or the doctor.
Yes, time will be mine, without you my dear and
I’ll tune into classical radio.
My hair still regal; not a grey out of place,
I shan’t break too hard or too late.
Yes, time will be mine without you my dear
but I would miss you, my dear, with you not here.
So before I am old, with my hair all regal, driving my Fiat Punto,
let’s jump the lights and turn up the volume,
greet the wind in our faces and hair.
Love me again on the old squeaky backseat;
sleep out, when we should be at home.
Guitars all blazing with a foot to the floor and
thundering drums keeping time with the revs.
“I am, truly sorry, Officer, Sir,
I had no idea of the speed limit in place.”
Yes, time should be ours, my love, my dear,
To witness sunrise through the mirror’s rear view;
the seats all sticky with the times of yesterday,
my hair not regal, and all out of place.
© Anna Ghislena 2014.