Wind blew through the holes in the framework
What had it been?
An old roundabout left by the fair?
An unfinished church?

One said it had been a vehicle,
We saw no wheels and the structure,
Too shaky to move,
An engineer’s night mare?
Something the Wright brothers left?

Bits of punched tape, macabre decorations,
Flapped from the frame,
A loose strut slapped in the wind.

Perhaps it was never finished,
We didn’t care, it didn’t work now,
It lay in a scrap-yard
Surrounded by rats.

Won an award for this one