The Bicycle

The Bicycle is a old buddy, it’s time is forever passed.

The seat insist to be ridden, longing for the breeze.

The wheels turn no more,  covered in moss from ancient times.

The handlebars raw for movement, stuck still in cobwebs, rust and more.

The brakes stood still in loved in touched, nothing to do but sit and wait until one day.

The headlight gone light no more, remembering the times it had with its only friend.