Wagon

WildFlowers

I came upon a wagon crumpled and old
The ashen timber was vision to behold
I lingered and pondered, what would he say
of his experiences and his decay
I spoke out loud as if he could hear
What wore you out on the frontier?
With a puff of light the wagon spoke
It’s okay that I am worn and broke
I was startle, as I stepped back
Be not afraid I will not attack
For my bed won’t hold and my wheels won’t turn
Sit and hear my story, there’s something to learn
I grabbed a squat next to him on the grass
He spoke of his life and things that had passed
A contessa in white cotton would harness me
I would shriek with joy I was about to be free
We’d journey to town for supplies by the bunch
We’d have short interlude with a man for lunch
A mad youthful lad would often exploit my use
His lively demeanor helped lead to my abuse
He would hitch me up with haste and raging touch
I knew he would be my demise at the feel of his clutch
He would take me places where jagged rocks would do me harm
His juvenile intentions provoked in me great alarm
As he came of age the visits became few
The male terror was soon out of my view
In twilight once I felt a great heated blaze
Contessa in cotton saved me to my amaze
My shelter was gone nowhere to rest my wheels
I stayed in the elements, and could not appeal
There came a great rumbling as never heard before
It was a contraption with wheels and two doors
Contessa would climb in and take it to the stores
Once in a while she’d take me out to the field
I would bear for her autumn’s hardy yield
But even those visits soon came to an end
Here I stay; here my time I must spend
I will vanish away into the earth
I know I have outlasted my worth
The fact you are still here speaks volumes to me
You have outlasted the best of them I must decree
Dear wagon you give me a glimpse of the past
Your presence makes the long time ago last
A glimmer of light shown before I left on my way
I picked some wild flowers and gave him a bouquet
I gently placed them in his bed
I assured him you’re far from dead
You are here for reasons unknown
Seeing you, I know I have grown
Your wheels may not turn; your bed may not hold
Its okay; I will share your story for it must be told
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About kwicksand

Sinking in the quicksand of my thoughts. ~David Bowie
This entry was posted in Poems, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Wagon

  1. Oliana says:

    You are such an amazing poet!!

  2. emma1951.wordpress.com says:

    So very beautiful…! 🙂

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