Its meat falls off more each year
leaving open spaces between its bones
where snow gathers
and weeds climb.

It is gray, now,
and hides in the autumn rain,
perhaps like an old elephant,
large and saggy,
its trunk forever searching
for something lost in the earth.

From the country road,
it seems graceful
resting against the surrounding
sullen fields.

But something much like sleep
holds it there -
fettered in time
while all those who once adored
its bright red paint
made their way down the country road,
forgetting to look back,
leaving the snow and the weeds
to shelter its elephant bones.