Tomorrow
Cement mixing, street fixing, painting a line, tires are yellow now they shine
A bump in the road, sorry the story told, and once again, one to many times and old
Hamanity ever at its best, policies spoken and unrest, implimented even after protest
The tires are yellow, sorry old chap, my good fellow, we are doing our best tomorow
the lines will be white.
Keep your lines tight and your waterways clean...
This poem is about:
My community
