My Rusty Blue 1948 Ford Pick Up
It was a beaten down old rusted out 1948 Ford pick-up truck.
But it was mine for a mere twenty six dollars and nineteen cents.
Don’t ask how Grandma came up with that price.
The exact amount I had in my piggy bank.
It did not run, but I was ten.
How much driving can an unlicensed ten-year-old do?
All summer long for three summers I sat in that truck.
Driving to Portland, Colorado, Texas and Maine.
My imagination loved that 1948 Ford so much.
Getting my real truck a few years later
Was almost a letdown, but not totally.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
