The forgotten, lonely old bike not ridden

for a long time and, its memory the same.

The broken, silver spokes on the wheel that long ago

were spinning around in the sun, shiny and new.

You stood by the new fence and you

old bike waiting to be repaired.

You were new and now you’re old. As your reflective, sparkly

wheels rode through the memories of magical adventures.

Maybe if I still touch you, even if old, the

memory of you and me will come alive.

Since your pedals haven’t rotated for so long they stood in

the same place waiting for , even a stranger, to get a move on.