He sat in the forest all alone
Waiting for love to take him home
Children came to play each day
Never the same as yesterday
Once proud, gleaming and fast
He could outrun, whistle past
Now he had lost his attraction
Year by year, fraction by fraction
He sighed with despair, was she there?
So many others, dumped without a care
Waited too long, love had died
He wouldn't, couldn't give up; had she lied?
The sound of a horn, squeal of brakes
She kept her promise, all it takes
She stripped him bare, brought him back
Blue streak with white-walls, all new tack
Cruisin' the highway - others just stare
Beautiful Buick without a care
Her hair streaming - top always back
His heart thumping, eight cylinder stack
He carried her until the day she died
Humans don't last - Buick cried
He became a compressed block
Scrap heap junk - recycled clock
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Author Notes
Everyone who has loved their first car will understand the passion that goes with it. This is a love poem, just a different kind of love. LOL.
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