A life is like a big wheel burning rubber down the pike;
there are too many curves and hills it erodes a life.
There are obstacles in the roadways, flats to be repaired,
complaints from people…don’t seem like they’re fair.
A scorching sun beats a soul; aches gnaw at their bones,
no time to spend with spouses or to be in their homes.
The miles keep accumulating to rob and wear threads,
patches, plugs, miscellaneous fixes up the worn dread.
The big wheel keeps rolling, rolling down the highway,
no time for any rest must work to earn a weeks pay.
Many times roads are dreary and storms beat down,
countless occasions threaten getting to the next town.
The big wheel keeps rolling, rolling down the Interstate,
there’s a load to be delivered, and it cannot miss its date.
Oft times sleep won’t come, and the burden is hard to bear,
life is in turmoil and there isn’t a soul to listen or to share.
Don’t allow people to say, "Life is fun and full of games;"
it doesn’t come easy but for the famous and those with fame.
The big wheel keeps rolling; rolling down the highway,
never knowing when the end will be…it could be any day.
A wheel can only take so much until its break-down shows,
its thread wears thin and it is worn out until it cannot go.
A body is like a wheel, strong and capable when fresh,
but the age of time destroys its strength and flesh.
Barbara Kasey Smith is the sole writer of this poem.
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