Rust
A Poem About Rusting Out Pre-Loved Vintage Cars
Rust
You creep slowly up my body
Reclaiming what was once shiny and new
And cover me in red flecks of hard oxide
If I am touched, I leave my sienna coloured marks on your fingers
To remind you that I once was shiny and new
And now I am not
Rust
I become the colour of the landscape
No longer standing out as a bulk of reflective metal sparkling in the sun
But becoming one with the sand, dirt and grasses that surround me
Blending
Not making a statement
Just being
Rust
Opportunists come and steal all my parts that they can use and add
to their still surviving cars
What is left, is just my hulk
The parts nobody wants, or that are too difficult to remove and carry away remain
The weight of me sinks slightly deeper into the earth
The wind blows debris up against me
Creatures find shelter inside of me
I am no longer useless
I am part of the living landscape
I am reclaimed by the wilderness
Rust
Photographers come and take snapshots of me
I become an artwork centrepiece in someone’s home
Remembered glory days when they used to sit behind my wheel
And use me to show off to their friends
Their success, their strength, a muscle car
Now, I am part of their dreamscape
Of glory days gone by
Memories of precious few times spent with Dad and Granddad
The painting of my rusty old body warms their heart
I take pride of place in their shed, man cave or office
Once again