wtorek, 28 października 2014

Tyre


Tyre

Oh, old tyre
Worn out and tired

Black rubber shreds
Bearing a burden
Of fingerprints
From remote lands
Lying still
By the road

A rim
Still reminiscent
Of a circle
Whispering a litany
To All Saints
‘Saint Christopher
Watch our pilgrims’

Oh, old tyre
Worn out and tired

Plain and dusty
Crucified on a signpost
Never to return
Never to turn again
Wheel of fortune
Of the miserable and lame


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