bike ride, a poem. 

Like all things there is an end

To time. Seasons flourish and die, 

Blossoming again in an endess cycle.

Pedals beat a rhythm on the wind

And gravel flies across asphalt, still

Cold. Summer is on its way but

Spring holds on.

Still breathing, still Blooming.

Winter won’t let let go,

She sends snow flurries to whisk

Through violet

Petals like a tantrum.

She won’t win.

There is an endless cycle, time

Presses in. Seasons come and

Disappear while

I pedal on.


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