Poem

Manhole Cover Poem)
I am beautiful. Have you ever noticed my pattern.
I wish I could leave. But moving me is illegal.
I am a crime. I rust, begging for shelter, but no one comes.
I scream, but no sound. Oh wait I don’t have a mouth.
Anyway, the tables laugh, under their tents. And I rot. Every so often, I am moved. Towards the trees.
Then the bird laugh. Bit of their nests fall. Water drips off the tree, drips on to me.
I hate my life. Then the men in orange move me back. Then it starts again.