Journey

May 16, 2011
By Anonymous

I fly down the hill
The wind blowing through
My hair
I pedal as fast as I can
To get back up to the
Top

With my friends behind
Me
We explore places we have
Never been

“Bring your helmet!” they yell,
And I do
And yet
It never touches my head

I always rely on the open road
To guide me
Home.


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