The Old Car

The old car sat rusting
Under some tall oak trees
The Chevrolet emblem
Could still be seen across the front

It had to be at least 50 years
Since it was on the highway
Ghost riders appeared on
Autumn nights and took
This baby for a spin
Children in the neighborhood
Testified to that

A pretty lady with her kerchief
Blowing in the wind was often
The driver
She liked to push the gas pedal
To the floor and race past the
Other cars on the road

Sometimes a thin man in
A business suit would get
Behind the wheel and off
To his office he would go

The Chevy must have been
Brand new back then and
Something to see
Shiny hub caps and
White wall tires
Plus fins in the back to
Add class and help with aerodynamics
But now she sat slowly
Rotting and only
Moving in the imagination
Of some 10 year olds

 

Francine Farina is a rather new poet who hails from Amsterdam, New York. She recently was awarded The Foothills Arts Council first place for her poem, Changes. She is retired and cares for her elderly mother. They share their home with three adorable rescue Cats.