Rust is a sign you rode it
until the tires fell off,

the motor gave up several
ghosts, and the transmission
did more than fail
it fell off.
Growing old with grace
old-style, challenged by
high weeds, the doors
gone, the chrome
more red than silver.

Out of the road game,
the odometer is laughing

that this is just the way
any favorite car should end
its days.

Author's Notes/Comments: 


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lizardking's picture

i can't help but apply this

i can't help but apply this to a metaphor for a human's aging, slowly falling apart, how wrinkles and scars are a sign of living

allets's picture

I Am That Metaphor

My scars were earned

my wrinkles sun etched

and permanent.

My gray hair is like rust

my joints rattle

when I dance and yes,

I still dance.


Lady A