Relics
The auto that the old man drives
A 1950 Cadillac
Red
interior, satin black
Most people gawk when it arrives
It floats like a luxury ship
From rounded nose to taillight tip
It looks as sharp as diamond knives
With large tailfins and shiny chrome
And crowned with classy rounded dome
It has outlived almost three wives
Inspired by war time aircraft
So smartly engineered to last
It must have had at least nine lives
To make it through these many years
It has outlasted most its peers
He tinkers, polishes and strives
Just out when weather’s very mild
And treasured like an only child
So through his nurture it survives
Who knows what future is in store
As owner goes on ninety-four
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