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POEM: old bikes

old bikes

bicycles rest against the old wooden shed
pedals holding memories of who knows how many feet
seats waiting for riders who’ll never return

weeds are coming up through the spokes
winding their way around the chains
nature claiming the spoils of blind progress

a few miles away cars roar along the new bypass
driven by the children who rode these bikes
until they traded in adventure for security

I walk past this treasure trove every day
quietly making plans for a midnight raid
to liberate these prisoners from their weedy jail

I’ll clean them and oil them and put air in the tires
then I’ll offer them for free to anyone
who wants to know how it feels to fly

10 October 2013
Oak Street

Published in Cycling My poems Poem-A-Day 2013 Poetry

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