Orange barrels are starting to bloom
And on the roads they make less room
The evening rush will take more time
Minutes stolen are such a crime
Back in the time the roads were bricks
The streets would always need a fix
But in these times when roads are made
They all receive a failing grade
And now they want to add a lane
And make our ride a bit more sane
But nowadays when home we go
Construction makes our journey slow
It's time for this short poem to end
No more time on this to spend
Don't think of me that I am sour
Orange barrel is our state flower
©Cliff Feightner 03/31/2009
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