The rusty, old, forgotten bicycle  was quietly standing as still as still as a London statue.

Sad and depressed the abandoned bike laid covered in webs and lots of moss.

Looking at this bike makes me think of a lonely puppy looking for a shelter to keep safe in.

The grimy bell rings like a broken doorbell.

The ancient bike was thinking of the good old days when it was owned.

I look at this bike and see a rainbow that has lost its color and shine