The nails on your fingers, now bitten so far down,
Where there is normally smiles, you can only wear frown.
As the clock does tick, you sit by the phone,
You want that the result, will not make you moan.
You drove it right there, did not seam very bad,
So why should the news, make you so very sad.
The hands they do turn, you await for the ring,
You need that the call, bad news will not bring.
You do start to sweat, like a fever on brow,
As need to know soon, some good news some how.
The hour does so pass, and phone melody does start,
You hope that the time, will not break your heart.
Your heart starts to sink, and list is read out,
As it hits rock bottom, with a cost of about.
The hands do now stop, the phone goes so silent,
You prayed that this price, to ears not be violent.
This bit and that bit, it all needs be done,
You take the bad news, and thoughts have now begun.
The hands now do race, as your saving do go,
You hoped that this call, would not have been so.
But once its all done, another year you will gain,
To be able to drive, your own car once again.
The clock does now tick, as the time does go,
You hope that next year, it will not be so.
M Sisson nice one mate
D Hall Sounds like a Ka Ching, Poem. Hence Why both Husbands have been Mechanics LOL, and I work at a Car Parts Supplier Good Poem
H Mann so true!!!!