Good Ole Harry
It weathers the storm and still beats itself dry.
The battered old duster that keeps me alive.
She span out of control like a ghost after curfew,
If Harry was here oh what would he do?
Magic, it can get a guy killed.
You can imagine how I wasn’t half thrilled.
I ran with the duster billowing behind whilst creating a shield all shiny and wide.
The car dipped it’s headlights a solomn solute.
I panicked with experiance was this it’s debut?
I needen’t havce worried the steam fizzled and hissed.
As she tiled her head in a way I couldn’t resist.
©G.P Williamson 2017