Rotting Wood, Rusty Nails

Rotting Wood, Rusty Nails

Bottle caps and candy wrappers spread all around,

Testimonies of yesterday and memories abound.

Wagons made of flat boards glued and nailed,

Rubber wheels bouncing, the rider’s hopes prevailed.

T’was a time now lost forever, slipped away,

Memories of the children who played on that day.

Nibble care-taking to not sabotage our dreams,

Of building a wooden roadster we were a team

Each nail tapped into place holding secure,

Dreams talked about between three entrepreneurs.

It was a time when things were possible,

When children knew that they were unstoppable.

All standing proclaiming each their success,

Looking at the roadster, our beauty we confessed.

Cleaning the tires, brushing off the dust,

From first one tire, then another, cleaning is a must.

Standing beside the roadster complimenting,

Each for their work, their dreams confessing.

The only toy we owned this roadster of wood,

To travel the dirt road on which we three stood.

I still see the wagon made from leftover wood,

Holding the three riders doing all that they could.

But, alas even dreams must come to an end,

Thrown into barbed wire each had to fend.

Sixty-seven years ago this project we completed,

When tires were priceless, rusty nails subjugated.

Living on the ‘hill’ overlooking the valley vast,

We three thought that our dreams would forever last.