The old Ford sits patiently in the backyard.
Sitting, hopeing, that maybe one day someone will
Come along and glance in its direction.
It’s been sitting there for quiet some time now.
Through the rain and the snow.
Vines and bushes have nested their thick
Roots surrounding nature’s masterpiece.
Years and Years go by and nature’s toll
Takes effect on this once stunning car.
Holes appear in its hood. It’s nothing more
Than a playground for squirrels and birds.
The tires go flat and mold themselves to the ground
The wood in the floorboard has rotted away
Leaving a gashing hole, through that hole
A small flower is making its way.