Ode to my ageing scooter...

FDC 710

I don’t want to forget her:
Not her strained laughter, or her shrieks when the heavens cry,
Not her illegal soul, or her scars of selfless devotion;
I don’t want to forget the coarse touch of her hands on mine:
Hands kissed by the rain,
Baked by the sun,
Caressed by the wind

I don’t want to forget us:
Not our cold arguments on wintry mornings, or our Salsa twists on mountain roads,
Not our conversations through iron bars, or our anxiety in waiting rooms;
I don’t want to forget the tunes we twisted together on the twilight road:
Tunes howled by us,
Inspired by freedom,
Conducted by the fading, dashed line on the road

I don’t want to forget her:
I the lover,
She the loved:

FDC 710