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Poetry

The Water Bicycle

The water bicycle

 

the air was chill for a day in May

though the sun flooded its currency into the world

leading our expedition the wise four year old

on the trusted bicycle

tracked through the rain-puddled land

taking finical care to immerse his wheels at every opportunity

in the watery sides of paths where the water heaped

I held his little brother’s hand

and walked with the wet ground seeping

into the holes in my trainers

while he skipped into every puddle he could see

water the fascinating toy of the young

simply because it was there

we came across a copse

where broken cherry blossoms carpeted the floor

the little one shrieked for home suddenly and for his mother

our leader was stuck in a pool

his black back wheel spinning

between the white grounded suspension wheels

spurting an arc of water jets

he cried for help

I gave him a push

and the world returned to what it was –

an empty park and three travellers

fifteen minutes from home

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