The metal is rusted,
and the engine has been silent for years.
The sun beats down on a broken muscle car,
and such lost longing is rarely seen.
The leather is torn,
and the radiator spilled it's contents long ago.
"An it harm none, do as ye will."
Scrawled in green gel pen above a weathered glove box.
A paperback copy of Crystal Society half read,
lying open in the back seat.
The radio blares music you probably don't like,
but if you do,
we're friends.
In any case,
could you pass me a socket wrench from the toolbox?
There's someone I'm supposed to be visiting right now,
he means the world to me,
and all of this is for him.
But I think at this rate,
the hidden gift I've prepared for him,
won't be done in time at all.
YOU ARE READING
A Hill Outlined In Metaphors
PoetryYou can find all of my work that doesn't relate to a specific story here. Expect lots of poetry and a few short stories.
