Black Country Biker
a tribute to my grandmother Ethel 1887-1980,
in service in the Black Country as a young woman
He brings the metal beast to be admired
The engine throbs and shakes the very ground
‘Come on Ethel,’ he smiles, the sunshine in his eyes
My man, my love, my soon-to-be, my boy
Do I dare and risk my reputation?
Respectability can quickly fall apart
I hitch my skirts, glance to check for watchers
My good name gambled for the rush of joy.
My leather boots, shone for our day out
Gleam in the sunlight, sparking in my heart.
My hat, black straw with springing daisies crowned,
Slips sideways, in my bid to appear coy.
‘Wait!’ he cries, his voice a lover’s dart.
The moment caught, the camera film rewound.
