84 Foxy-body Mustang

Dust on the chrome where memories sleep,

Under a gray sky, the engine don’t weep.

Chrome dreams hum in a quiet street,

Fox body heartbeat in a half-lit heat.

Old glow, the hood curves like a whispered sigh,

White wheels flash a memory of 5.0 highs.

Parking lot poetry, asphalt stretches wide,

A silhouette of summers we kept inside.

Rectangular eyes blink out a stubborn grin,

Grille breathing stories we once lived in.

Black side molding traces a path of rain,

Badge on the fender, a storm in the refrain.

Three-quarter view, a time machine’s gleam,

Dark gray thunder in a lover’s dream.

Trees murmur secrets to a cloudy crown,

In the shadow of buildings, we’re driving this town.

Take me back to the midnight ride,

Where the street lamps blink and we glide.

Open road, a memory won’t hide,

Drive my heart in the passenger side.

Surface of the pavement, a map of old days,

Throttle whispers tender, then it flares and sways.

The Mustang parks where the future leans,

Metal and mist in a chorus of screams.

No talking, just the wind and a name we repeat,

The sound of progress under tires of concrete.

Badge and backbone steady through the gray,

Fender’s small mark saying we hadn’t gone away.

Clouds loosen up like a soft curtain sigh,

Two doors, a story, a stubborn goodbye.

Take me back to the midnight ride,

Where the street lamps blink and we glide.

Open road, a memory won’t hide,

Drive my heart in the passenger side.

If these wheels could speak, they’d sing in chrome,

Rattle of bolts like secrets we kept at home.

Rain on the roof taps out a careful choir,

We chase the echo of a long-lost fire.

A quiet miracle in a parking lot glow,

The fox body holding what time tries to slow.

Take me back to the midnight ride,

Where the street lamps blink and we glide.

Open road, a memory won’t hide,

Drive my heart in the passenger side.

Moonlit chrome fades into the rain,

We drift in memories we can’t replace or explain.