The ’39 Mercedes Ssk - Poem by Resten Swondo
In her day, she was nothing but a nice ride,
But she had been ridden into the ground;
She coughs and splutters among cats,
Her cold dream cracks a dry walnut dash.
She still opens herself to any passing man
Offering more than her junkyard nothing.
Now, old and broken, parked in the yard,
Her rusting bodywork inspires restorers.
Comments about The ’39 Mercedes Ssk by Resten Swondo
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You