Yesterday's Scrap.
my old Rattletrap,
that chrome encrusted
time machine,
should have been
my coffin as a teen.
Testosterone driven
at breakneck speeds
of devil-may-care
it took me everywhere
but back there......................
Chorus-
A rusty old Ford
that cured what bored
in my younger years
with creaky old doors,
sporting four on the floor
and some stubborn gears
but it was my own golden chariot
after sharing a couple of beers
on those trips I took so many times
with the best of my peers....
Its huge back seat
was a red vinyl altar
to young passion
hump-teenth times
sharing hunger that
seldom faltered
graced with tops
both tube and halter
down on lover's lane.
where all young souls came.
Lovely girls whose curls
caressed my face,
sharing kisses
memories can't erase,
till we reached 3rd base
in that tag out place
where they chose to abstain,
much to my dismay
but oh, those few
who let me do
whatever
kept me sane....
One of Histories
perils to daughters
now just useless
Junkyard fodder,
rendered long ago
into a cube
mashed steel
dull chrome
and bleeding lube
then melted into
someones else's
treasured coup
for new journeys
towards nostalgia
far beyond my
teenaged blues.......
Chorus-
A rusty old Ford
that cured what bored me
in my younger years
with creaky old doors,
sporting four on the floor
and some stubborn gears
But it was my
own golden chariot
after sharing a couple of beers
on those trips I took so many
times with the best of my peers....
but now there's so many gone ...
those that I held dear
Just graveyard fodder...
no longer here....
But sometimes
I can still hear
thier laughter,
as they cruise
beyond the ever after,
amusing the Lord
in my rusty old Ford...
in my rusty old Ford.
Art~Whimsically Yours Studio
Matthew F. Blowers III ©--2015
