Yellow Roadroller Poem by Padmanabhan Ananth

He stands there sadly in a street corner
Rust eating metal, fading yellow colour
Possibly years back quite many
He'd have trundled but majestically

Would have driven him, a proud driver
Cautiously over tar and gravel mixture
To make roads wheels can merrily fly on
To make folks whistle when driving on

He'd have demanded so much attention
On repairs, re-paints and so much clean
He'd have been a gas guzzler, undoubted
But he's big, so all that he'd have needed

Where gone are his drivers, his owner
Where gone are them who once did care
Why is he now a fellow, just forgotten
Just because he's 'past his prime'?

He's so rusted, even roll - none can
He's so bemired, even clean - no plan
None even to steal him does bother
None even to strike a deal does care

His driver would've retired, now home
His owner may've replaced a new one
What about him, only a street corner?
What about his loneliness, not a care?
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