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It is the gullwing, without a doubt,
that sweet 300 - twohundred horses
the silver star adorns the snout
the symbol of tremendous forces.
The red of fire engine, it's mandatory,
for contrast from the Pullman,
its silver lining warming the garage,
the sixpointthree a trifle agricultural,
and fastest of them all, pneumatic cushions,
the sixpointnine, tan leather, walnut dash,
it takes them on, the lot of them, and grins
it's all a matter of much confidence and arrogance.
Only the gullwing needs its rhyme to show its reason
with such charisma and so filled with harmony
the others are just vehicles for any season
they lift your spirits as they listen just to me.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read poems about / on: silver, star, red, fire, horse
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