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