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)

Other poems:


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