They smile and they giggle
And the back is filled with bumps.
His hands on the the wheels and each
turn is smooth as silk.
It weaves a brilliant spiderweb
Through the mornings, after
Each stop a gentle mountain side,
Each roll a simple dust of snow.
Yellow as the sun and staying
loyal when it rains,
Blinking like a fiery dragon,
Crawling through its cave.
A patchwork pattern, clock in and
out, a scent of clean and strength.
It carries on each day and yet his
smile never fades.