Coated with black and lined with white,
I looked so stark and smooth when laid.
To my surprise were my early bumps!
And all those need a longer jump.
I hate when the clouds break,
As those rain drops ripple on my cracks.
I feel down when you deny my lane,
When wheels skid, don’t throw the blame!
And whom would I question for laying me lame?
Don’t repair me with these irking patches,
As they all look like ugly sutures.
Bother me soon, when I start to split,
Won’t you ride happily when I’m fit?
Image courtesy and copyrights: DNAIndia