The Car
Sputtering and clanking, stopped the old car,
From a foreign land it came suggested the dust,
But as I noticed on it meekly from afar,
I realized it wasn't dirt but sickening rust.
The rust made me think hard,
Was there a time when it was brand new?
Like you pick from a deck a new card,
Spots and marks on it are but few,
"Yes ofcourse", I said to myself,
Everything was once handsomely young,
But it also has a life of the shelf,
Where old become the songs that are sung,
The withered tires took a deep breath,
They thanked that the journey came to an end,
But alas, has gone their once shiny wealth,
That they though they could forever spend,
As soon as I came out of this thought,
I saw a person picking its lock,
Who would steal it in a state so wrought?
A better choice is to steal a rock,
When no one thought it could ever start,
The car roared in a manner fake,
When everyone thought it was worth tearing apart,
Another ride with destiny it had to take.