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Poem

A pretty lawn tractor fell in love with a tiller,
A romance that was doomed from the start.
Because her ancestors were all Briggs & Stratton,
While the tiller is proudly Tecumseh at heart.
                                                  
Now if he would confess his innermost feelings,
He is secretly charmed by the way her hood shines.
And there's something about her cute little head lights
That makes a strong  tiller go weak in the tines.
                                       
At night they both share the same cozy tool shed,
Among all the hoes and shovels and rakes.
But they speak not a word and nobody knows
How her poor carburetor trembles and aches.   

The lovely lawn tractor maintains her yard duties,
And the tiller tirelessly tends to the soil.
They never complain, but she has taken to smoking,
And he freely admits to using some oil.
                                                  
So time marches on, and they bravely endure it;
As time knows no mercy, endure it they must.
The love they secretly share is still brightly shining,
But their paint is now peeling and they're showing some rust.

Oh, love unremitting; how tragic such romance!
How bitter, yet hopeless, the tears that are shed.
But east is still east and west is still west,
And never a tiller and tractor may wed.

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