Last year’s model
by cricketjeff on June 19, 2010. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
While driving last year’s car,
And mine was made too many years ago.
I’m feeling rather out of place,
A has-been, fallen star;
With not too many sparkles left to show.
I used to hit the limiter
On every decent straight,
But now I take an age to get to speed.
Far sharper than a scimitar,
I always knew my fate;
But now my moves can not be guaranteed.
Beside the engine’s brutal roar
There’s now a clank or two,
The sexy note I knew has disappeared.
My angry snarl is now a snore,
I haven’t got a clue
When I can get the partial blockage cleared.
I still feel thrills when I begin,
I’m eager to compete,
With all the younger smarter cars on show.
I’d love to think I can still win,
But finishing’s a feat;
At least I know my working parts still go.
Don’t listen to the liars who
Say age will never count —
I’m past the best I didn’t quite achieve.
This rhyme is all that that I can do,
Though it’s of no account,
I’m sure I’m much too old for make-believe!
Inspired by this piece http://allpoetry.com/poem/6261195 by one of the finest poets I know, Comradecoalheaver (Jim Olsson).