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Showing posts from April, 2017

Tire

When my life does expire my poems will roll on like a tire even though the words and thoughts aren't new the arrangements will give people  something to chew on and on as the threads become smooth the next generation will feel my groove  and light their own fire with ditties that inspire  as they roll on like a steel-belted tire. Tire by D.W. Dowling (Meredith M. 1998)