Round and round and round she traversed
Looking at the metal box
At the dash and blue interior
Hints of dogs hairs, little clocks
Was it really? Could it be?
After all these empty years
Looking closer at the number
Checking, yes it clearly was
Old faithful where it all had happened
Where her life had been played out
Sitting in the front she conjured
How and when it all had been
Memory returned at once
As how he could no longer cope
How the family had suffered
How for him it had gone sour
How his job was now at risk
And that he could go on no more
Round and round the metal box
Lost in thoughts so long ago
How she wished it had been piled up
On some dark and wintry night
With its owner in the front seat
Terrified and stiff with fright
But perhaps on more reflection
it was best it was that way
So the little metal box would go on
"C'est la vie", the French would say
