Your old car

For months now it’s been standing in the same spot, same place,
unmoved, unwashed, lonely, abandoned,
its grey hood blending with the gloom of late autumn days,
covered in a layer of dust and
a pile of leaves, with several bird poops adorned.
Oh, I know exactly how it feels.
Through fog drops on windows it has your departure mourned.
Leaving it behind its essence kills.

Unlike me, though, you used to use it really a lot
and it seems to have served you so well,
driving you everywhere you wanted, failing you not,
until you switched to a new model,
a bigger working vehicle in which you likely
write the fuel costs off the taxes
of your business company, not a bit contritely
about ditching your old car’s service.

But perhaps you may yet once return to it when you
grow tired of going back and forth
across the whole country in pursuit of your two new
interests, realising thenceforth
the value of all the things waiting for you back home,
like you old grey car (so elegant,
showcasing your good taste), without any need to roam
as far as our country’s orient.