There it still stands,
abandoned and left
in the dust to rust and decay.
In its day, a trusty “steed”,
but it has needed much attention,
not to mention plenty of cash
to re-convert this piece of trash to the notion
that motion was once its function.
An open lot, overgrown; not mowed
in a long while. Weeds obscured
and amber waves of grain sustain
the field mice that find lodging there
dodging the elements and predators.
And thus, this bucket of rusted,
once trusted truck is stuck,
alone in a field that seems devoid
of dreams and schemes. Just a means
to dispose of a once valued ‘friend.’
© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART 