Quatrain of Wheel Of Your Car
Round we go
I am a wheel of your car,
I feel thankful for
the life I am
spinning,
When you come up to a
stop, I grip the road
as if I were
sinning.
I come to a temporary
silence, and then I
peel out, all lit on
fire,
As I cool off my sins smell
like burnt rubber, after
all, I'm just a
tire.
Yorktown Disciple
Round we go
I am a wheel of your car,
I feel thankful for
the life I am
spinning,
When you come up to a
stop, I grip the road
as if I were
sinning.
I come to a temporary
silence, and then I
peel out, all lit on
fire,
As I cool off my sins smell
like burnt rubber, after
all, I'm just a
tire.
Yorktown Disciple
Order # 11026
My
sins
smell
like
burnt
rubber
sins
smell
like
burnt
rubber
Yorktown Disciple
Poetizing around the world
Poetizing around the world
©Yorktown Disciple
All rights reserved
All rights reserved
Poem Sanctum
Quatrain of Wheel Of Your Car - 11026 - Yorktown Disciple