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Now which of the cars
will bring her to me
the blue or the red
I just cannot see

The girl that I long for
is hiding somewhere
alone in a car
this is why i stare

I walk in the streets
you might call me mad
but even the cars
are making me glad

I know that they carry
the beauty of man
the proces of making
a thing from the land

And one of them carry
my baby to me
her eyes in the mirror
the sun on her knee

Oh automobile
I truly love thee
the symbol of passion
the style of the free

Well, Peter, you did just fine with a poem about cars and girls ~

Very immediate and evocative:
"her eyes in the mirror
the sun on her knee"

I like your humour in it, too.

Yeah if I was the sun I'd be warming the knee of every girl. Now as it is Im only warming some, and without the tan-effect.

Well Peter, some is better than one, and certainly better than none...