Critters Live Under My Hood In Winter

I am like a pretty jalopy that has accumulated rust A proud chassis but with a droopy fender now No one oohs or wants to purchase me now Which is great for I am not for sale in any kind of way My chrome bumper which was glistening sterling Used to be a drum majorette for parades in the 40’s I sit in an old farmer’s back lot now, hidden from the ones Who have bought up land and are building pristine brick houses There used to be a great-great-grandson who would jump inside me Play with my steering wheel, honking the horn But it has not worked for a long time Critters live under my hood in the winter I have become a shelter for those who need one No longer a showpiece, not flashy or sassy But I remember and I smile, as the critters seek shelter Neither of us satisfied but it is a start sometimes.