My blue car
broke down on every cue,
still I loved it.
Then the day of its sale
something strange happened
I burst into tears.
I liked it, but not that much.
Then it struck, four years
I’d owned it and the
three biggest loving influences
of my life, had passed away.
I couldn’t reverse down that motorway,
open a door and let them back in,
they were all now fixed
in the rear view mirror.
Three sudden goodbyes
via casual nod.
All gone in six months.
The church of uproar
sang with hundreds
all three sat high in near by pews
still to print out their vacant spaces
in my stamp book life.
I heard no bell ring
but angel’s wings whispered past.
We four still talk, or I do to them
much inside my new blue car.
So happy memories move on,
new owners, well…
one’s a hundred miles north
with three others
hitching the unmapped road
that careers through heaven.
Jerry Pike
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