The bike leaned against the solitary tree, waiting.
Gears clunked and clicked like a crab’s claws.
Each spoke is an upright soldier, standing to attention.
The headlight flickered a hello and goodbye to each passing day.
A rusty frame, shed paint like a dragon shedding scales.
Deflated tyres are like a balloon popped by a needle.
You are the impossibility of stardust,
dancing across the galaxy.
You are the memory of your father’s war,
lost inside a forgotten heart.
You are the memory of lost souls,
wandering the Earth.
You are the smell of The Gorm’s foul breath,
wafting through the air.
You are a scared goldfish, swimming frantically,
from the cat’s jaws.
You are the sound of Podkin’s lost ear,
impailed under a spike.
You are the impossibility of the beginning,
marking the end.
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