Ode to Olde Blue- a Love Poem

This poem was written after having been inspired by Peggy Schadler's painting titled Olde Blue. I was honored to read it before the audience gathered at the Art fusion celebration jointly hosted by the Suncoast Writers Guild and Venice Musicale in Venice, Florida, this past April.

Olde Blue, painting by local artist Peggy Schadler.

Oh, how I’ve missed this old farm and you.

Abandoned for decades, and yet still it grew

bountiful with sunshine, and memories, too.

God, I miss my Becky.

Beyond those sunflowers, is our secret place.

It’s where I towed you with tears on my face.

The bond between us time could never erase.

God, I’ve missed you, too, Blue.

Into the flowery thicket I go with my cane.

It may prove a bit too much; perhaps insane.

What we shared on this day is worth the pain -

so special to you, me and Becky.

When dad first bought you, I was barely ten.

Rain or shine, we worked you hard back then.

Been thirty years; can’t wait to see you again.

Hope you’re still there and remember.

I learned to drive you when twelve years old.

By thirteen, look out! I was cocky and bold.

From then on, I owned that bad boy, story told.

That’s how it was, right, Becky?

Licensed at sixteen, I’d drive you to market,

cruise around town, find somewhere to park it.

Went looking for love and hoped you’d spark it.

And he sure did, didn’t he, Becky.

Lost in these memories, I’ve tripped and fallen.

Through a canopy of yellow, heaven is callin’.

“Get up you tired, old fool! Quit your stallin’!

You can make it!” cheers on Becky.

It’s been six long years since Becky passed.

The time we had together flew by too fast.

I loved her each day like it might be our last.

I’m still in love with my Becky.

Dad let me take Olde Blue to our senior dance –

a night filled with magic, just begging romance.

I hid bedding in back should I get the chance

to make “first time” love to Becky.

Blending as one, beneath the warm, starry sky,

on the flatbed of Olde Blue, we understood why

(Oh, come now, Henry, don’t you go and cry!)

Heaven had joined us together.

To me, this special place is hallowed ground.

For forty-six short years, our love did abound.

And, no greater friendship would ever be found,

than the one we shared with our Olde Blue.

Through thick overgrowth, I pass by his side.

Like prom night sneaking here, trying to hide.

The exuberance of it all has me bursting inside,

reliving this moment with Blue and Becky.

I stretch my arms wide and embrace his hood.

My cheek against chalky metal feels so good.

If this old truck could, I know that he would

talk to me, just like Becky.

From down below I hear a whispered voice,

“I’ve been waiting so long (like I had a choice).

If it still worked, I’d blow my horn to rejoice!

You do remember me, right, Henry?”

“What nonsense is this, I’m hearing from you?

You’re my friend, my soulmate, my Olde Blue!

There’s not been a time I haven’t thought of you.”

“Same goes for me,” says Becky.

Reminiscing for hours, they laughed and cried.

Not long after their reunion, the old man died.

Blue, Becky, and Henry took his demise in stride -

three youthful spirits together forever.

Poet, artist, and Olde Blue at the Art Fusion celebration, April 2026