While my body slumbers.

My mind entertains itself while it waits.

I dreamt I was a car,  in line,  at the Pearly Gates.

And in the mist stands St. Peter, 

Who says,  my turn awaits.

St. Peter says,  I am rusty and squeaky.

And ready for the scrap pile.

I say,  no,  I may be crumbled and leaky.

But I think I am a savable classic,

And should stay around for a while.

St. Peter asked,  what do you have for the world to see?

What good can a rusty old heap be.

I said,  St. Peter,  just give me one more chance.

I can restore,  myself,  I can fix the rust.

And my apperance I can enhance. 

I will be a fine classic for the world to see.

And when I shine,  the world will stop and take a glance.

St. Peter said,  let us see what you can be.

A classic you are,  but not a car.

Wake now,  sing and dance,  

St. Peter has given you a second chance.

 

By JD Bardo