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WD40's Companion
September 12, 2016
The bicycle holds up the skies
Pedals move, give life to wheels,
Handlebars a projective destination,
Brings beauty to the outside dim.
Reversing oiled chain, and brakes are glued,
Revolving wheels a steady limb,
Fates of death, turned around.
Arrival where the sky needs to breathe,
Repeat the process, round again,
Keep on going, don’t rust within,
I am the sky,
The bicycle, will never die
© Ying J.
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It's a description in metaphor , how my friends are a bicycle that hold me up and allow me to go.