My Wooden Tractor

Terrified tractor,
He gradually squeals like an injured rat running across the prison floors of Alcatraz,
With his soul like the titanic lost in the cold pacific water.

But yet he’s made like an artwork by Picasso and moves like a plastic bag in the wind.
He listens for a sound hoping for a friend,
Hoping for a friend but nothing happens,

He’s made with perfection like rock barracks in Edinburgh but damaged like an old abandoned castle.
He slowly moves back and forth while rapidly whispering to my teddy.

With his blueberry blue carriage like a trail of sadness behind my tractor,
He’s like an eagle waiting for some prey,
With my memories like cement filling in the cracks of his mind,

Never to be seen again,
Tumbling forward.