forward motion

That little red wagon
at the bottom of the hill, on its side.
Single wheel continues in the same direction
they all were going when the wagon upended
single wheel suspended
horizontally, wobbily orbiting the axle

Once shiny, new and red
Now rundown, rickety and rusty
held together with duct tape and wire,
it begrudgingly gave a bonus period of
wary fun

I sit at the bottom of the hill
battered, bruised and broken,
held together with memories
and wonder if Dad can fix it again

I've got to go catch that wheel