Elegy for the Red Dragon
The rain that streaks the fractured old window
Falls from a sorrowful lead-bellied sky.
The grieving wind blows sad and lax with woe
Mourning a passing that creepeth on nigh.
Oh, her heart is troubled and grumbles with age
Her hands are weak as they brush at wet tears.
The needle shies short of the top of her gauge
She whirs her clutch when she slips out of gear.
The tears of rain slide off her roof in clots
And pool in sad puddles 'round her soft tires
As if the water could heal her rust spots
Or wipe way the scars of rude red pliers.
And time is tightening its noose around her
The future holding nothing but junkyards
Though perhaps delayed by sale to some sir
Before she's parked 'mongst other discards.
Oh, Red Dragon how patiently you sit!
So noble e'en though your great engine fails
Your lines are stylish despite the rust pits
Your painted dragon still swishes its tail.
Memories are drawn on you in scrapes and spills
Transporting back to fine times on road trips
The smell of years in the morning cold chills
Roaring good music and speedy straight strips.
The bucket driver's seat wordlessly waits
Its arms stretched out to cradle close and tight
The hood peers forth unaware of its fate
And, oh, I wish its future I could rewrite.
Red Dragon, Red Dragon, we wish farewell
Your loyal rumble shall always remain
Echoing mixed with that coming sad knell
When we'll smile through the rain despite our pain.