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Beat Up Van

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Take a look in the broken mirror.
Maybe sit on its torn upholstery.
The paint is worn, and its color fading;
Though, it’s noted for its aging.
Beat up van


In its prime, ran on a dime-
Transporting unkempt, rebellious teens
Gas was cheap and so was love.
Now a dime won’t buy a hug.
Old van- the love bug

Painted orange,

pink, blue, and green.
Thus forms the Legend- the younger scene.
Pick up the habit and bare your feet,
Or let the rust portray defeat.
The symbol of two-fingered love

Psychology of teenage years
Once home to hippies and carefree dears
Now marks a heap of broken parts
It is the art of breaking hearts.





Imagine its paint is not peeling,
And that we star gaze through its ceiling.
Suppose the daisies, dead in the chair,
Refined a crown for one to wear.

Envision the 8-tracks that held a tune,
And wistful nights that ended too soon.
Discern inner beauty on which this bus ran.
Refuse to see fault with this old




Beat up van.





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