A Pome a Day for a Year

Look at the drive on that!
Look at the gears it has, all manner
of power and torque, pushing it and pulling it,
no cares in that vehicle!

Me? Oh, my gearbox is bust,
sad to say. My drive is lacking, my fan belt
split and worn, my va-va-voom
is go-go-gone and I am stuck, in this
parked bay, under old leafy trees
where the view is not great,
but not as bad as, say, the top of
a car scrap heap, crusher looming ahead.

How do you drive when you just cannot start?
When the keys have been missing
for so long, that replacing them feels
like a marathon performed while jumping?
My tyres as smooth as the
paintless metal shining through my bonnet,
I am scared of the open road;
of being back out on those highways,
under the elements.

Where did my courage go?
What happened to ambition?
I am not content to be parked,
but I cannot ignite.