Old Bicycle

March 11, 2017
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The rusted metal
no longer shines with rays of gold
The handlebars
no longer
have muscles of steel
with strength
and power.
The spokes
don’t ever pump in quiet peace
or twirl with wonder
The tires
with deflated spirit,
a tired breath,
will float no more.
But the memories they bring,
the ones with laughing
and singing and crying
will never fade to dust.

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