An Old Yellow Ford

An Old Yellow Ford

My boyfriend at 16

Restored a ’56 Ford

He painted it yellow

And I loved it

There were no seat belts

And I would slide next to him

Across the bench seat

Put my hand on his thigh 

While he drove down 

Deserted country roads

Pulling in to bush parties

Bonfire lighting up the night

We’d put the tail gate down

And sit with our legs dangling

Metallica playing on the stereo

Conversations and laughter

Where nothing else matters

And when the cops showed up

As they usually did

We’d run blindly into the dark

Fumbling across the land

Laying down in fields

Laughing beneath our hands

We’d kiss ourselves alone

Until he’d take me home

Curfew well past time

If memories are a vehicle

Mine are conveyed 

In an old yellow Ford

Words: ©2021LCR

Image: No Claim


  1. Your poem is free verse at its best ... I felt it, saw everything you remembered. Brava ...

    1. Thank you. I can't even tell you how sad I was when I heard he had sold it. I thought he'd have that truck forever.

  2. What a lovely time capsule!


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