O thee made of fibres gathered into carbon strands.
Surface smooth as glass upon which I lay my hands.
Light as air you weigh.
To fill thyne tubulars with helium would be my way.
Slicing through the air acting as a knife.
You add joyous moments to this all to brief life.
O wheel you put a big smile on my face.
We laugh and mock others and their disgrace.
O wheel so stiff and solid true.
Carving the asphalt with tires holding like glue.
Puttng me in the poorhouse may be my price for our play.
A small consumer loan may be my only way.
O my dear wheels I sing to thee.
Carry me on to my significant personal victories.
Posts
1 comment:
Sweet!
Post a Comment