I promised my former self
That I would not write
This for thirty years
Saturday follows Friday
It always has
The storm had faded
I walked along the lane
It was partially flooded
I saw the body
Of my umbrella
Almost hidden
It had been
Hit by a car
Which had disguised
Its original injuries
Its fabric had melted
Only its skeleton remained
It was distorted
Beyond recognition
I left it where it lay
It was too late for funerals
I looked up
A burnt tree
Hung in the lane side field
The small distance
Of two parked cars
That was all
Two family cars
Had saved me
But not my companion
Joe May 1994