He had a motor fitted to his wheelchair, which was grand
He wouldn’t have to move it now, with his aching hands
He’d struggled up and down that hill, several times a week
His fitness levels, heart and lungs were surely past their peek
Now simply with his feet and thumbs, he could control the speed
Much better with a motor, he had to now concede
Till winter came and froze the ground into an icy sheet
Then out of house and out of yard and onto sloping street
The motor worked as well as ever, but rubber wheels on gloves of leather
Failed to stop the chairs onslaught, to final date with Juggernaut…
Photo credit: Marcus Aurelius on Pexals.com
A Badly Chewed Pencil 
That sounds like an ouchie!
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