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.