An Old Rusty Tractor

An Old Rusty Tractor

by Joshua Coffman

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.

#poetry #poem #reminiscent