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
Petals like a tantrum.
She won’t win.
There is an endless cycle, time
Presses in. Seasons come and
I pedal on.