Freya Poem by David Wood
Freya
Freya looked at me
With such a tired look,
Yet a soft gracefulness.
She wanted me to bathe
Her again in her soft
Favourite foamy soap.
Gently, I sponged her
Body with the love and
attention she deserved
Until she glowed as
I gently and lovingly
Restored her beauty.
When she once more
Looked graceful, I then
Cleaned her wheels
What were you expecting?
Freya is my car! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 12:15:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
It's figures you wrote a poem about yr car lol Typical Man! ! !
It still has Clara's tennis ball in a recess on the back seat, her lead and bowl in the boot, which I think you call the trunk.