Christmas morning for a 5 year old
Is possibly the most exhilarating time of any child’s life.
Weeks of anticipation surmount to this moment,
The adrenaline rush when you wake up on Christmas morning.

I wake up on that snowy morning
And dart straight into the living room.
I will never move this fast
In my life ever again.

As I get to the end of the hallway,
I enter the living room slowly
As if I were entering a stadium filled with thousands of fans.
I slowly scan the room that has been hit by a Christmas bomb.
I am in shock and awe.
I snap my head to the side
And my eyes instantly fix on
A mountain bike that rests on it kickstand.

I speed to the bike as I scream with joy.
I wake my parents from their hibernation
And they slowly crawl out of bed and into the living room.
Their faces light up in a heartbeat when they see my excitement.
I pretend to ride my bike,
I’m going a million miles per hour
While still dressed in my reindeer pajamas.
This is a moment that is engraved into my memory forever,
And it will last a lifetime.

This bike is my first that I learn to ride
Without training wheels.
Me and this bike were best friends.
We went on every family camping trip together.
Riding around town with my friends
And almost getting hit by oncoming cars
Are some of the experiences that
Will always give this bike a place in my heart.


16 years old,
I write this poem. Digging deep
Into my childhood. I still own this bike.
This bike isn't just any ol’ bike that is forgotten.
It represents a very special time in my life, my childhood.
A time when I was happy and carefree, not a worry in the world.

As the years go on, my bike is replaced with cars. A bittersweet feeling.
Sitting in my shed, rusting, unused and rotting away, it is lonely.
However, it remains a constant reminder of my childhood,
And reminds me that eventually,
All bikes rust.