By Keegan
From the 1960’s old but restored,
my dad’s car is as shiny as a diamond,
green like a mint with a vanilla top.
Leather seats as comfortable as a soft bench.
Back seats belts protest,
like a five year old kid when moved.
Dad cares for it like a son,
drives it as carefully as an operating surgeon,
but without a care in the world,
like a flying bird.
Keegan, you’ve done a great job writing this poem! It’s got some really great similies in it. I can just imagine your father driving the car ‘without a care in the world, like a flying bird.’ That’s just the way a ‘toy’ car should be driven. For fun.
Do you think adding a photo of the car add something to your post for your readers?
Hi Keegan, this poem is very nice and it is like a song. I love it!