The bicycle

stands like a dormant volcano ,

waiting impatiently for its gears to spin once more.

Its wheels no longer twist and turn in the burning sun,

but now have to face eternal imprisonment,

forever hoping for its release.

Rusted mud guards fail to protect

the once glorious paint from the harsh winter’s mud,

getting weaker by day slowly letting the mud in.

The light,

a once shinning glimmer of hope,

now slowly fades out of existence.

Deceased pedals trapped and encased

surrounded by millions of blades of grass,

closing in for the kill.

A lonely bell

dings silently in pain,

old and batted from its years service.

The black surface

repainted over and over again,

now looks like a snake shedding its skin.