The abandoned bike,

leaned as lifeless as a dead pike,

Its rusty gears won’t spin,

without making a din.

This is my bike.

It has had happier days,

when the wind would sway,

Its aluminium chassis has rusted,

and its tyres have busted.

The bike’s handlebars have been bent,

and in the seat there is a dent,

The torch’s light doesn’t show,

the bike is a great place for weeds to grow.

This bike is mine.