WheelWright
By: Tom Wright
7/23/2006
Like a wheelwright’s newly finished wheel
Each spoke intact in the beginning,
But as the Wright wheel rolled through life
Spokes loosed from a life of spinning.
As with all things, time and abuses
Have left telltale signs of decay.
Until finally some spokes have loosened
Bringing difficulty into each day.
At last spoke Betty was beyond repair
Another, Joe, vanished and is unfound.
Mom & Dad bushing, from the hub are gone
Making it difficult to creak around.
At times we turn on an un-greased axle
And our squeaky parts don’t aptly fit.
We’re greeted each day with some new hurdle
As we remain sane and preserve our wit.
With loosened spokes the wheel gets wobblier
Each passing day is like another mile gone.
In the eyes of some this wheels quite useless
Someday, a single spoke will lie alone.
God knows and will call each spoke in time
He is cognizant of aches and pain we feel.
Spokes Norma, Jerry and me
Are left holding up this creakily old wheel.
Categories:
wheelwright, age, death,
Form: Lyric