I Will Return a Steam Shovel

When I am old and gray I wish to die quite far away. To be reincarnated as soon as I am able to come back. And to be a steam shovel in my next life, and hey, I want to be powerful, with steam, not a hack. As a steam shovel I will chomp into the grass. Chewing it up in large gulps, leaving square holes. People will come around and watch in mass. Awed that I am so powerful and meet my goals. They will call me steamy, and they will fear me too. I will be gobbling up yards as quickly as anything they have seen. The children will cheer when they see me in my metal blue. I will be strong and quick, effective, but never mean. Yes, when I am old and gray, I will not fear my death at all. For I know I will be coming back in a glorious non-dream. I will be lithe, and lean, smartly painted and rather tall. Best of all, everyone will applaud when they see my steam.