She sits dissected
Across the garage floor.
The engine here
The frame there
And the body
Awaiting a coat of paint.
It was a dream,
A goal to bring her back.
Rust and age had started to show
So he wanted to revive her.
Disassemble was easy
She was apart in no time.
But things got in the way,
Years went by
And the dream grew out of reach.
Sad to say that when he died
The fragmented beauty still waited
Alone and in pieces in the garage.
Who knows if she will ever run again,
Grace parades like she was meant to.
In some way I hope
He is driving her again…
For the daily word prompt Triumph
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Oh wow. Beautiful story!!!
Thank you!
You’re welcome!
Just now noticed the name of the car. My dad had one of those as well.
Interesting post. My response to this prompt was also about the Triumph Spitfire. In fact, that was the name of my post as well. But yours was much more poetic, while mine was matter of fact. Anyway, nicely done.
Thank you!