For the Decrepit Poetry Contest of Constance La France
From '54 and obviously restored:
“A beautiful car is something to be adored and if possible, restored in later years to its former beauty. Some of your best memories it keeps.” by poet There is a very old decrepit car. She was my father’s “baby” long ago. Named Jaguar D – like a Superstar - she cruised downtown with a polished glow. The young kids oohed and ahhed when she went by. Unwanted now – she sits in Grandpa’s field like a pet (once adored) left out to die. She’s rusted and busted; her window shield is shattered, and I bet bees made a hive inside her engine, for her hood is raised. Why couldn't she have been restored to thrive and as an antique, she could have been praised. Out to pasture is her degradation; to be towed and crushed: her destination.
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