She rocked up Quebec Road
In a Triumph Stag, hood down.
Ear phone platted grey hair
wound around each ear
somewhat loosened in the wind
Still wearing her pinny that
Merged her breasts with her waist
Her fingers, still naked of any ring,
Hardened with labour, delicately
wound around the sporty wheel
‘Are you comin’ for a ride then’
She asked, her eyes twinkling,
her face amused at my surprise.
Mary, my next door neighbour,
By hazard my unofficial nanny
who’d been ‘in service’ all her long life,
My re-occurring dream and thus
I remember her still.