You, my love, are my feathers & flames.
Though your body is shot, your spirit remains.
Thirty-five and technically called an antique,
There's much more to you than just your physique.

Nevermind that you're loaded & have lots of gas.
You enjoy going topless - now that's what I call class!
Aluminum heads, all shiny & new,
You now have a 6-speed transmission, too.
Fuel-injected for maximum drive,
With a Pontiac engine 455.

Many men have loved you in the past,
But their love for you, it didn't last.
Now I'm proud to have you as my own,
To shelter you and give you a home...

in my garage.

My wife can't invision this beauty I see,
As she stares at your frame with no doors & no seats.
Assure her, I do, that you'll win at the show
In your dress of new metal, painted Viper yellow.


*wrote this for my husband to post in his "man-car-fixing-upper" forum, and wanted to share.I have lost my love to the garage these days, as he is hanging out with his '69 Firebird.