Dying Breed
As the metal that shone like lacquered glass
Corroded to rust;
As the pistons that moved like silvery silk,
Fell to halt;
As the engines that throbbed like teenage sex,
Crumbled to dust;
As the petrol that flowed like molten fire
Turned to salt.
As the wheels that spun like chariot hubs
Froze and stilled;
As the windows that gleamed like polished ice
Spider-web cracked;
As the oil that seeped a Midas stream
Drained and spilled;
As the headlights that shone like replica suns
Dimmed and blacked.
As the leather that glistened with waxen coats
Split and dulled;
As the fuses and wires that once were live
Burned and blew;
As the dynamos that roared and screamed out loud,
Hushed and lulled,
As exhausts that once blasted fire and smoke
Rotted through.
As these sculptures of beauty that poised on tyres
Slumped and sank;
As these icons of heritage wild and proud,
Eternally slept;
As the last drops of fuel that drove the dreams
Bled from each tank;
Here the scrap-yards of reason are all that remain,
Are all we kept.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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