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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2197649
This title came to me when I was thinking about curves and tires.
When the tires ran over the median, the nerve of the curve swerved into oblivion. Whatever happened, we were all dampened with tears, releasing our fears that we've hung on to for years.

The clouds in the sky made us all proud; they kept us away from most of the crowd. The nerve of the curve caused the rain to come down; we were all happy, but we started to frown.

The nerve of the curve had caused us to sway; we were out on the dance floor without no delay. The music was pretty until it became fritty; the nerve of the curve made it seem gritty.

The nerve of the curve couldn't believe that people were gossiping about the blurb; it circled about with hardly a shout. Throughout the day, it became very silent, when another story about the tires blew out.

The nerve of the curve got them to talk, then it began to get them to walk. When it began to go out of stock, they started to sing some real hard rock.

The nerve of the curve can hardly be trusted, so it's time to serve the best you can, then it;s time to ride in the van.


Written By Anna Marie Carlson
Monday, August 5, 2019
© Copyright 2019 Anna Marie Carlson (annamc.poet at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2197649