Little lights staring forth,
slightly glazed in need
of a gentle buffering.
Always seeing where red
was going, although when
it was night his beams
not focused more
a blur.
But muddy features showed
this little tractor wasn't
scared of hard work.
In fact his tires in need
of a clean, as tracks left behind
where he'd travelled forth.
Looking behind you could see
which direction red had come
from, but they weren't random.
If you got a little height you could
make out little pictures drawn in
tire treaded dirt.
A regular little artist was red,
Now he was little, so sometimes
red would get in mischief.
Found on the grass no tracks?
Just a do not touch sign on the
floor.
But there were no muddy treads,
No flowers crushed before his path.
So how did little red get on the grass,
found sleepily slumbering his little
exhaust snoring away.
"Red, wake up,
As he stretched a little pump
came out his exhaust,
"Whoops,
as he blushed a slightly darker
hue of red than before.
"What you doing on the grass red?
I don't know, I must have sleep wheeled
here, its so much soft than the cobbles
I sleep on in the shed.
But there are no tracks, I must have tip tired toed,
so not to wake you up.
I knocked over the sign,
And felt how comfortable it was.
The farmer knew he'd accidently
told him the truth.
Red was only little after all.
Ok would you like to sleep under the
stars on a field of grass from now on.
"Oh yes please, its so soft and comfy
on my tires,
The farmer smiled come on red,
as he lifted him off the grass gently
so not to crush the flowers.
Red drove at his side, tire tracks following
behind as he drove through puddles
splashing the farmer as he walked on.
