Nature snakes through the
weathered remains
of the old car.
Battered by sun and rain,
she sits half-buried
in a tangle of wilderness.
She's like an abandoned lover—
rusted shoulders slumping
under the carelessly draped years
of time-gone-by.

Sometimes, when the wind swells
against her broken body
and sweeps through the emptiness,
memories,
long ago buried in dust,
come alive.
Weeds shudder
as ghostlike whistles echo
through shattered glass.
She seems to breathe
among the swirling layers of the past.

And when day flees
in fiery streaks of red,
and the last breath of wind grows still,
she remains—stranded.
Shimmers of dust
settle, once more,
into cracks and seams
and floorboards.
She sits, lifeless—
an old car wearing away
in the silence of abandonment.