Runcible Spoon

poetry and prose webzine

Poetry Prose Submissions Contributors Home heart logo Privacy Notice Links Stephen Kingsnorth

Peddle Car  


The Triang car when I was three

was difficult to launch.

The rhythm build from first thrust

always was the key.

Soon I had a trailer

and loaded pans and pot;

it became a pitch for selling

and pocket money grew.

Soon I learned the skill to carry,

my brothers joined with me,

I travelled greater distances

from street, estate and town.

Peddling came easy,

across the countryside,

too far for talk or shouting,

we joined the county lines.

And now I run a business,

borders stretching beyond site,

because I cracked the pedals

of that red Triang car.