The heat, The way it ripples from the steel handlebars And burns my hands, The way the clunking of the chain feels As each pedal propels me forward Beneath the sun. The sky is blue, The air is crisp and leaves pinpricks On my skin, Soothed by the tenderness Of sun rays that fall like curtains Upon the concrete.
It smells of rubber, A lingering scent of nostalgia That fills my lungs like tar And fills my heart with youthful Thoughts. As the wrinkles emerge, And the delicate cracks begin to show, I realize that my bike Is the last memento that Resonates through my aging ways.
Let's take a final spin down the boulevard, Before the sun goes down And my bones ache once more.