Tuesday, June 19, 2018

An Old Rusty Tractor



An Old Rusty Tractor
written by Joshua Coffman
repost from 2015

Out in the field by the big bale of hay
At the edge of the woods it quietly lay.
Just a desolate onlooker, a humble old guy
Who rested and watched, as the people passed by


He thought of the lunches the farmer would pack
Half way through the day, they would stop and look back
At the work they had done and fields they had plowed
The farmer would smile and beam real proud.


Together they’d sit on the brownish-black dirt
The farmer would eat, and the tractor would flirt
With the beautiful butterflies that gather’d to stare
At the big brawny shoulders of the mechanical bear.


The farmer would finish and the day would go on
To finish the job they had started in fun
But now it was toil, brought sweat to their brow
With effort they pressed on to carry the plow


A few moments later, the day, it had passed
And the farmer was home and he fell asleep fast
But the young whipper-snapper, the big brawny bear
Continued to ponder and think of one beauty rare



She stood out from the rest and was gentle and kind
She looked at him friendly, and rested his mind
From the work he was doing, both stressful and hard
She offered a rest from his labor in the yard.



The days would go faster and more work would he do
Just to see that fair butterfly and heart that was true
His roll he would quicken, more work would get done
His mind would get focused as he thought of “his one”


The present returned and the old one returned
To his place at the edge of the woods in the ferns
His mind had returned and his smile grew cold
For he felt not the warmth of love’s warm gold


He was an old rusty tractor, no one wanted at all
No farmer, museum, or quaint rustic mall.
He was lonely and quiet and paused to again
Remember his beautiful butterfly friend.


He could not remember what happened to her
He knew that he loved her, the smile clear and pure
Where was she, “Why was I so foolish to be
Separated at all from the lovliest: “Queen B”


But then a dear voice came back to his ear
It calmed his alarm and allayed all his fear
Twas that same butterfly so beautifully rare
They had grown old together, Pop and Ma Bear


She had gone to hung laundry, he had paused from his work
Of building the house, and had suffered a quirk
Of memory loss, so old now was he.
He still was in love, and happy, and free.


This untypical family was happy to grow
And continue to work, to reap and to sow
An old rusty tractor, and his beautiful friend
Were in love with eachother: Together. The End.

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