Burned out matches,
old bicycle patches.

I keep these with me to remind me of my journey.
To remind me of the people I've offered a light.
To remind me of a few who took my light,
and rode alongside me awhile.
To remind me of the mistakes I've made along the way.

I can change who I offer a cigarette to,
a warm comfort along the cold trail.

The repairs are only temporary,
but I can never change the way I ride my bike.

Eventually it will crumble.

Eventually my broken bike will send me off a cliff.