Sitting in the back of Millie.
Smoking a fag and enjoying a break.
From the ‘goodmorning’ smiles and the whole foods and questions,
The nodding and smiling, change exchanging, suggestions.
In the comfortable back of my car.
So many adventures in her rusty, black frame.
The gift of mobility, my taxi with a name.
She will not be mine for ever, her story never told,
But it always gives me joy to behold,
My old friend waiting there.
And when she’s sold
I hope she’ll be
with someone a bit like me,
who’ll take her to new roads,adventures,
the connection with her history,
a freed carthorse
An old taxi.
When rust and weeds crawl over and coat her,
This remarkable tin can, this character motor,
Who has ridden in her will always be,
An eternal mystery,
But I love her, my old black beauty,
She has helped me along in my way of the free…