Boneyard

Dirt road reveals the entrance
Splintered words welcome you
Chain links distorted glance
Grass damp with morning dew
Crawling through the boneyard
Where legends are put to rest
Rusty bodies who lived hard
Dusty earth devour’s what’s left

Skeleton of a vintage Mustang
Once cobra jet powered
She went out with a bang
While the competition cowered
Shelby was her fatherly saint
Bucket seats dressed in leather
Factory blue and white paint
Faded by time worn by weather

Fiberglass curves so majestic
Born on a Detroit assembly line
Now propped by stone and stick
Stripped of her slick iconic design
Here lays the Corvette Stingray
Fast forward seventy years
Her heartbeat still heard today
Through offspring and new ears