The Bicycle is like a dinosaur, its time has long passed.

The Moss begging to get cleaned away to unlock the beauty of the bicycle.

The Seat beckons to be ridden, longing for the breeze of a morning cycle.

The Headlight is so broken it’s falling to millions of pieces like stars in the night sky

The impression of fingerprints still pressed upon the handlebars, with memories untold.

The Wheels wanting to turn one more time.