Henrietta

I walk down the dew dropped garden,
Down past the planted Christmas tree,
Alongside the old beach hedge,
Round the corner to see her...

Her little chrome eyelids that look sleepy,

And her shiny frostbitten wings of Cadbury,

Typical female with her cantankerous side,

Looking so perfect but stubborn as hell!

Sat there eyes twinkling in the sun,
With her sad and unimpressed stare,
Almost like she knows it's time to get up,
As I'm wrestling with the key in her lock.

Finally she relents and I win,
Only for her to find another way,
To stall my morning further,
By coughing instead of purring!

Out comes the WD - now she's scared!
Douse her leads, wires and intricate parts,
Fires up first time with a groan,

Reluctant to pull away with my loud music.

Misfiring all along the little back roads we know,

Her horn I fire up around those tiny tight bends,

Making her sound bigger than she actually is,

And feeling every pot-whole in the road.

To feel her pushing to be better than the others,

Trying to show all they are wrong,

A 22 year old girl against the modern day beasts,

Creaking and aching body without a care.

We have a connection, a bond, an understanding,

I talk to her and she talks to me,

I hear her pains and she listens to mine,