Accidental Poet

Born To Be Driven

 

Curvaceous and sexy

Muscular, yet slender

And the mighty power

That lurks between the fenders

 

Mirror-like finish

Of hypnotic black

No apologies for

The innocence it lacks

 

Wheels and tires

Rolling or sitting still

Mesmerizing the eyes

With awe they instill

 

Through the hood

Rests the hood scoop Shaker

With the turn of a key

A rumbling Earth Quaker

 

Sit behind the steering wheel

Hold the Pistol Grip Shifter

Drop the clutch

Now you’re haulin’ the mail Mister

 

Shift from first to second gear

As you’re pushed into your seat

Feel that Hemi pull

Hurling you down the street

 

Built for speed

Born to be driven

The life of a Plymouth Hemicuda

Deserves all the respect it’s given

 

Copyright © Accidental Poet 2015