Short Trundles Poems

Decrepitude

I love my rusty dusty car,
the most entrusted car, by far; 
a sort of hey! Come out and play, 
both here at home and far away,
a last hurrah, a real star,
my mighty, flighty, motor car.

I’ve had it now for quite a time,
I bought it new and in its prime.
It rumbles, crumbles, trundles on,
through life’s eternal marathon.
It is my friend, the best by far.
Just me - and my old motor car.

~

For Suzanne's 'Synathroesmic Cat' Competition.