If by chance they were alive, like say our faith brought it to life
Would we scream an "Ouch" each time our flight landed
Also heave a sigh of relief when we took off, easing the weight on then
Those beautiful thick rubber rounded lovely black circular tyres
They must grow tired, working day in and out I feel
Though I do not wish life upon them, but it is alive I perceive
My foolish poetic mind yearns to feel life in all after all
Have you seen them scrape themselves as they land face first
They have a big face and it is like all over their circular selves
Would you not care to spare a thought to equate yourself with them
I do not think you need to be a poet to see these beautiful wheels
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