Old Red Bike

Brush the cobwebs off the fading paint

Cold skin touching colder metal

Then off along the empty streets

Cool breeze kissing my nose,
reddening my cheeks.



Breath coming harder, chest constricting

Yet with the pain of forgotten senses

Comes exhilaration,
freedom,

As I fly on the old red bike,



Remembering summers past

And yet to come.

As the sun sets, another day ends

But still the joys of humanity

And nature rush in.