Grinding Start
I turned the key,
pressed the gas pedal.
The motor belched
the starter grated.
“No. Not today!
I can’t be late.
I’m teaching the class.
I have to be there!”
Our three-year-old
piped up from the back seat,
“Try it again, Mom.”
The motor coughed, caught,
settled to a steady purr.
My little two-cylinder Fiat,
slow, but steady as she goes,
took me everywhere.
Again, from the back seat,
“I knew it would start, Mom.
I prayed.”
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2015
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