Internal Combustion Due To Construction

Everywhere there seems to be much construction;
concrete and rebars and backhoes galore.
I am beset with internal combustion;
delays and detours are making me sore.

Out on the freeways orange cones are a-poppin’;
they stand like sentries to barricade lane.
Inside my head pleasant thoughts are a-droppin’;
I have to struggle to keep myself sane.

Half way to Pittsburgh on turnpike I hurried;
high was a concrete wall hemming me in.
As a big semi approached, I was worried;
the space between us was terribly thin.

Back near my homestead was project forever;
many a year did construction go on.
Due date for completion was next to never;
(long was the night ‘fore the breaking of dawn.)

Even a drive to the mall is more irking;
that sign, Road Closed, instigates waves of pique.
Inside the fires of anger are working;
construction bother is week after week.

Yet all the same, by the plaza or dairy,
some inconvenience is par for the day.
Without construction this world would be scary;
thus I’ll put inside combustion away.


24 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
11-3-17