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

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