Now that I the Future See,
Taking Stock of What ails Me.
Searched for Something to Compare,
Chose a Tire filled with Air.
Trying hard to Cast my Luck,
Being Vain as any Buck,
Wimpy Tires want to Shun,
I Select a Big Truck One.
Once brand New with Lots of Tread,
Fearless Of what’s up Ahead.
Grip the Roads in Weather Bad,
Lesser Next but Just a Tad.
Miles pile Up and Fast at That,
Though Can fix When it’s Flat.
Limp along – Stretch out More,
Even Though know What’s in Store.
Now the Tread is Almost Bald,
Golden Miles is what It’s Called.
Hope the Tires – Feeling Stronger,
Still can Last a Little Longer.