Bike Ride MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   I peddle and peddle,

trying to remain

up

on the narrow wheels.

With my sister pushing the blue and white bike,

I feel a feeling of control.

Now, it's time. She releases the bike and I slowly wobble away.



Now,

as I whirl by those slow Sunday drivers,

and the joggers, who love to annoy bikers by running

right smack in front of us,

I remember my sister,

and I wish she were here to protect me from the dogs,

that gnaw at my feet, and the rocks,

that you don't see until it's too late.

Save me.





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