Wizm, the Car

Wizm the Car

It was on a nice day
That I had no choice.
My old car was coughing
And losing its voice.
It had no pep
To a new day’s start.
It was always at Fix’ems
For a new automotive part.
I looked at its miles,
And tried not to sigh.
But in the end a decision
Would be the final good-bye.
I drove to a dealer
To end the misery.
And find a new auto
To let me be carefree.
But one last look at Wism
And it’s old white paint.
Was enough to remind me
My heart would be so faint.
Our journeys were amazing.
Our luck was more than good.
I drove in rain so heavy.
Wizm’s tread stayed where it should.
I rode to jobs in summer.
We went to friends at night.
Old Wizm was dependable.
From the engine to headlight.
But time would mean that Wizm,
Would gently begin to die.
The parts would rust and falter.
Its safety one could hardly certify.
I looked at new fast models
I felt the inside seat.
I thought this was my answer,
As I felt a fast heartbeat.
But Wizm just kept waiting.
On the dealer’s parking lot.
For my keys to get it going,
And take it back to Camelot.
I heard a man who looked at her.
He said, “Yea, she’ll do fine.”
“We’ll take her apart and junk her.”
“I’ll be back to get her, a little after nine.”
Good friends I know are hard to find.
But good cars are even more rare.
I got a mechanic who thought Wizm was a dream.
My new husband, who kept Wizm as a spare.