Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
re_ross_Poems
Legs crossed, Riding my bike over the curvature of these roads, Their patterns I've memorized, The people in each house, I remember. I pass by Blue, The house where A stole my hat And made me chase him down the street, Childhood crushes and games of catscratch, His father called me "Sweetheart" once. I'm so tired today, I couldn't sleep last night. I take a breath, And pass by Red, The house where B walked his dog daily, He was getting very old and acted very young, Talking to him made me smile. I nearly fall going around a curve, and my shoelace is ripped in the chain. I take another breath. I pass by Yellow, The house where I visited C for new year's night. It brings regrets and shame, but I hate to show it, So I sit up straighter and with pride while in view. I go around a second curve and go down a hill, picking up speed. I pass a car, the driver and I exchange waving hellos. I get home, dripping sweat. I enter White, The house where I have the most memories, But that I did not begin in as a baby, And that I don't think about remembering as much as the others.
0
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 3:05 AM UTC
Bike Ride v Memories
Legs crossed, Riding my bike over the curvature of these roads, Their patterns I've memorized, The people in each house, I remember. I pass by Blue, The house where A stole my hat And made me chase him down the street, Childhood crushes and games of catscratch, His father called me "Sweetheart" once. I'm so tired today, I couldn't sleep last night. I take a breath, And pass by Red, The house where B walked his dog daily, He was getting very old and acted very young, Talking to him made me smile. I nearly fall going around a curve, and my shoelace is ripped in the chain. I take another breath. I pass by Yellow, The house where I visited C for new year's night. It brings regrets and shame, but I hate to show it, So I sit up straighter and with pride while in view. I go around a second curve and go down a hill, picking up speed. I pass a car, the driver and I exchange waving hellos. I get home, dripping sweat. I enter White, The house where I have the most memories, But that I did not begin in as a baby, And that I don't think about remembering as much as the others.
#memories#bike
re_ross_
Written by
re_ross_
United States
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 3:05 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem