My Poetry. Dear old Bess.

Dear old Bess was made to rock 
Done three times round the mileage clock 
Squeals and grinding bouncing high 
breezing round corners trying to fly. 
Moving so slowly her body a state 
Old and rusty with holes in the grate 
Wheels all buckled trims all mud 
riding the road with the usual thud.
Lights are dim bumpers all broken
fumes blowing thickly pedestrians chokin’
Radio so old it gives you a blast
Programs in Latin and songs from the past.
Windows can’t open seats are a mess
Keep on rockin’ my old darlin’ Bess.
Eventually she stops no will to live
Chugging and choking throttle I give
Old and tired she cannot go on
Engine going cold in the new light of dawn
Taken to the scrap yard a cars resting place
Left to be peaceful in etiquette and grace
the moral of this story is obviously clear
Hold on to special memories the ones you hold dear.