Ode to a Pothole

 Ode to a Pothole  - Feb 2010

Unloved by all that use the road,

O’ yawning vent, spawn of the frost,

Companion of ice and rain,

Aperture of hate and pain,

Just how long will you remain

To gloat at tempers lost?

This wholly is deplorable,

When will your deep depression end?

Fulfilment soon may be your fate

Macadam shall, early or late

Fill your cavity ‘ole mate

Before we all go round the bend.