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AUTO SHOW
By Arnold Neil, Army
Writing Type: Poem
As we walk through the door we feel the breeze, smell the plastic and metal, don't sneeze.
Sit in this car if you will; the price will give you a chill.
I look at this shiny new paint and say, no, that's not it, wait.
The salesman comes over and says, ""I have another one in bright shiny red.""
The man just listens and walks as the girls on the tables talk.
We're all here to look at new cars, but I see old friends' faces from afar.
I remember when the rear view mirror was there on the hood, not really over there.
Walk around, your ticket they did take. Nine dollars was too high to forsake.
But now as I'm at this auto show, I feel, oh, how old I have grown.
The cars are all shiny new, but the one I remember was blue.
My first car, oh yes, it was fun, reverb, buckets seats, shifter gun.
But now I am older by far, and I stare at all shiny new cars.
But as these cars do grow old, their prices in the future won't be as bold,
But now is another auto show. Oh man, if I was young, we could go.
Race tracks, thoughts to our mind. Kick the tires, is the timing really fine?
Carburetors are gone from that place where I used to sit with Grace turning it
But now spark plugs are all gone; fuel injectors don't sing that song.
Spurt, spurt in the carburetor it would go, and the gas tank would run so very low,
But really is this an auto show? No.
FAMILY
Notes: Michelle Maloney
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