Oh, I can remember the date as if were yesterday
The day my driving instructor began to pray
It was the day of my eighteenth driving test
He was pulling his hair out and holes in a vest

Even the guy testing me face turned sickly green
He told me the last time I was the worst he’d seen
The broken nose he’d received during the last test date
An emergency stop and being hit by a number plate!

It came to that part of the test, reverse round a corner
We were ready when up came a hearse and mourner
Well that was it, my heart was firmly in my mouth
And all the confidence I’d had went definitely south

Issues I’d with driving mirrored my Parkinson’s condition Identified so many months ago, started this situation
Body and mind screaming ‘mercy’ stopped working
Needed to rest, get myself straight and no shirking

It was about twelve weeks ago problems came to a head
My doctor strongly recommended I rest, and so to bed
Day to day life seemed to go slowly or come to a stop
Without a framework my thought processes were slop

With all the lack of sleep my eyes had two set of bags
Tried to force back the sleep by reading some mags
I was so tired I walked around in some type of stupor
To help my brain I grew poetically, a literary trooper

Poetry came flowing out of me like rain in a gutter
I’m driving my wife mad, she thinks I’m a nutter
It took me twelve weeks to turn the corner, and refocus
With each review I blossomed like springs’ first crocus

My reflective day dream returned to the driving test
My driving instructor and assessor, a state of unrest
The hearse slowed my reverse, test passed, ex-learner
Relief shone as I drove off, crashing around the corner


© Philip Golding 04.01.2007