When on my bicycle
I am the swallow.
The wheels are my wings
Propelling me faster.
Swooping, swaying, hugging curves…
The wind rushes through my hair.
O tree swallow who needs no heap of metal…VICTORY!
You, the acrobat in the sky
While grounded still am I.
Just a quick poem about how I feel on my beloved bicycle. There is a certain freedom that I could only express through poetry. Usually that’s how it works, when I am so happy and emotional (in a good way) about something, it calls for a poem.