I was a three wheeling, go getting, young adventurous child.
I learned that good things don't stay,
no matter how bad you want them too.
Everything must come to an end.

I’ve held my love for a possession,
as long as I can remember.
I gripped the handlebars so tightly clenched in my hands.
giving them blisters, wearing down the grips.

I’ve heard my name slip and slither out of people's mouths,
“oh she's too old for that” shrinking through the distance,
as I kept pedaling my small red tricycle.

Waking up daily just to get in my daily ride,
day after day after day,
I learned that good things don't stay,
no matter how bad you want them too.

Waking up with such shock, much more than a lightning bolt.             
when I walked along the path leading to my back yard.
There was no tricycle in its normal parking spot,
but in a parking spot unknown to me.

Where oh where can it be, no where the eye can see.
What to do, where to go, where to start?
Hour by hour time seemed to slowly tick by.
walking with my feet rather than pedaling my trike,

gone for good my mind kept saying.
Time to fully give up.
I went to sit with the setting sun, to ease my pain
and there is when I see,
my trike is staring back at me.

Sitting in the pond like it's taking a bath.
Here comes family to reunite us again.
Happy was all I felt that moment in time,
when my tricycle was returned to me.

I could return to the three wheeling, go getting, young adventurous child,
I was meant to be, just my trike and me.