The bike is lying next to to birch tree, impatiently wanting someone to drive on it.

The bell is wailing, waiting for someone to touch it.

The pedal is bored, sitting there for nothing.

The birch tree loves the bike when it sits next to it.

The tyres are deflated and popped because naughty children were kicking it.

The handlebars are REALLY joyful because it gets to rest and not move around.

It’s sobbing saddle cries because it can’t smell people’s bums.

The brilliant brakes are sleeping, angry of scraping the wheels.

The light shines as bright as the sun.

The cold cobwebs are hanging on the seat.

I know you love bikes but this one is CRUSHED.

GOODBYE BIKE!!!!