Rearview Mirror Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Life is a long, open road.
With few pit-stops or fuelling stations
Many, therefore, check the rearview mirror.
As it's a road over ravines and mountains
With many twists and cliff-top turns.

At times, we'll sleep at the wheel.
Break self-isolation laws and speed limits.
Or park in some sleazy 'pull-out'.
Deflated, we check the rearview mirror.
And wonder where it all went.

Where it all went wrong
Our destination could be Route 66.
Begging not to be a fly on the windscreen
But migrate to meet the California sunshine.
Melt-like grease tyres even in the snow.

Tank empty, rearview mirror steamed.
Baby, I'm yours.
'I could be your Santa Claus.'
Your hibernation get-out clause
'I drive a Ford Mustang, ' like I'm a wild horse.