The handles on the bar that I now hold
Two wheels not three that follow the road
The turbulent wind that envelops my mind
As I try to find,
A sense of balance as I traverse upon unfamiliar ground

My house becomes smaller upon the horizon.
My mom’s sweet smile as she runs behind and,
I cannot help but think,
A new time emerges as the other sinks.

From Trikes to Bikes
In all but a blink.

The four strong walls that once surrounded
Fall to the ground tattered and pounded
Put through 17 years of life
As three wheels become two
I spread my wings and take flight