Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

I watch a flash of silver-grey, a sliver of light, speeding at dawn
Sending shivers down my spine.
Symbol of my desire
Riding, gliding on well-treaded tyres,
Threading through gleaming wet patches,
You are spirited away.

Sleek, immaculate, fiercely practical, but with a foreign flare for style.
Precision instruments responding
To the slightest, lightest touch,
Calculating, ticking away the seconds.

A spurt of passion wells deep from within,
Then purring along the highway you restrain your pent-up power.
Guiding through soft light, twinkling headlights
Pierce the gloom, dominating shadows.
Winking orange beams tempt me to follow.

Would that I had the key
To gain entry to the plush interior, the lush reclining seats,
And grasp the all-powerful wheel.
Smooth leather would enfold my eager form carried in stolen luxury.

It is denied me – you are another’s.
Daily I am tempted to force the high security locks
But I dare not lay a finger on your sleek form
Or I would succumb to temptation
And caress further your smooth paintwork and shining chrome.

Creature of habit, you notice not my envious stare
Nor care about my longing.
Throwing myself before you would be but a brief touching.
I must be content with cheery toot, fleeting glimpse
And faint red glimmers into the distance.

But I cannot forget the piercing stare, the low growl and soft purr.
One day perhaps a stolen hour or two
Alone with you seated behind that wide screen,
Hands resting on the leather–covered rim
I will guide you to some secret place and know you more.
Or if your power I can’t control,
The unthinkable and oblivion.