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Fading

She was fading with time,
blending without shine,
wardrobe worn to a pale red,
as rust was being fed,
her owner called her "Bess",
as she had served her purpose,
clearing trees and pulling stumps,
plowing fields and filling bumps,
forty years she worked these fields,
the cause of good yields,
and now her time had come,
no more parts, she could hardly run,
she could cough, spurt and fart,
she just didn't have the heart,
so as the year began to fade,
she blended into fall, away.

Style / type: 
Free verse
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Last few words: 
Bess is an old tractor almost ignored in the woods of Vancouver Island. I almost missed her as I drove by but thank God for brakes! The canvas has been posted on Instagram and under the #trekkerdekker. It was funny I had been working on this canvas for a month trying to think of a poem to coincide, when it finally came after I just finished the canvas. Hope you enjoy both!
Editing stage: 

Comments

That is what I thought ! An old tractor, indeed.

IRiz

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