The Roundabout Starts In Paris
It's with humor and ink on soil of the Franks
Too speedy the tickets replaced all by tanks
Sad is the sound of the roundabout song
That played louder this week but not for long
It called dead horses now saddled up strong
Will everyone ticketed please come along
Start to the finish now a season long ride
In places where flashes are part of the tide
Paris was after all maybe not a great choice
And spectators draw nearer the show to rejoice
Momentum increases my G_d how they run
Carry your mask as for winners there's none
It is only wood horses but riding a cause
To take riders to freedom for the applause
Sleepers awake winged ones by the gate
Waiting for whispers rides faster to make
Arno Le Roux 2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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