Poem The Wait Posted by monicahmwende on April 5, 2025April 5, 2025 Winds whistle a new song Old tires course through The ruggedy rough road With patterned puncture patches The journey justly jeopardized By unseen scribbler scribe Then she slowly squeaky stops. Share this: Share on X (Opens in new window) X Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Like Loading... Related