Poems

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The Paint Job

 


Nobody sees him

and nobody knows,

the man who paints

the lines on the roads,


My road was bare,

Not a single line there,

until one day I woke to find

that they were everywhere!


White dashed lines,

struck sweet through the middle,

perfectly straight 

without a single squiggle,


He must have swimming pools

full of paint, Gleaming white!

to fill his tins and head off

in the dead of night,


With a single brush 

and a simple code,

PAINT STRAIGHT WHITE

LINES ON EVER ROAD!