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Old Iron
By Rob S. Rice

They say it's time to say goodbye,
They say the end has come at last.
No time to really tell me why,
But you're abandoned to the past.
They say it's over, through and done.
They say that the good times have been.
  I'll give you up when Hell's ice through,
And maybe not quite even then.

Yes, you're old, and so am I.
There's better out there that costs more.
There's other vehicles to try.
But my old key still fits your door.
They've done things to your gas and oil,
They've tried to run you off the road.
But with my brain and sweat and toil
I think you're equal to the load.

Age or luck might let us down
Gas is getting pretty dear.
Gray hairs they call wisdom's crown.
We might not both be here next year.
But you and I still have our hearts,
You maintain your old place in mine.
If I've the time, and coin, and parts,
You and I will hold the line.

Let them snarl, curse, or mock,
Tailgate us, honk, then pass.
Both of us ignore the clock,
You have earned your years--and gas.
I'm not done--nor, yet, are you.
Let the others hurry past.
We're just aging wrecks, it's true.
But good things--and times--can last.
Just a tribute to silent friends who give so much to us and ask for so little.
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Submitted on
October 3, 2014
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