Model A Poem by Andrew Stimatze

Early up and down the stairs
Cream on oatmeal grandma prepares
Summer’s blast will be here soon
“Til then we’ll sing a driving tune

You sit there. I’ll turn the crank
You smile. The driver’s seat is blank
Clunk-a Clunk-a. There it goes
Shade trees rustle. Wind it blows

Tires long gone and windshield, too
But we still enjoy the view
For it is ours and it can fly
Or submarine if we just try

It’s just a bucket Model A
Rusted, broken, in disarray
The day you couldn’t wait to arrive
When you were old enough to drive