Plymouth Breeze Poem by Bri Lynne

It wasn't love at first sight
But at first flight
Taken by the sight
Sparkling green like the trees
In the Sun
Such a silken run
For the oldest one

It wasn't the second-hand wheels
Or the seats of stale
Or the way the rusty belts would squeal
It wasn't the dirty rugs
The rusted, battered rims
Not the dented rear
Or the putter of shifting gears
Not the breaks that screamed like bats
Or the rotted oil caps
It was seeing what I wanted
Going where I chose to go
Hair whipping in the wind
In the Breeze along the open road