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.

On the bicycle trail, a middle-aged
woman in spandex biking gear
had her bike flipped upside down.
I dismounted next to her.
“You need a hand?”
She kept her eyes fixed
on her bike wheel. “Why do I need
your help?” Her voice was filled
with contempt. “It’s only a flat.”
I didn’t respond.
Pedaling along the river,
I made the decision
to keep offering assistance.
Someday I’d need it.

-Ron Gavalik

Dejected by the performance
in an administrative test
a guy returning home
couldn't give his best

Perturbed mind
deluged with spike
It was only his reflexes
controlling his bike

A crowd gathered
on the road
grabbed his attention
switching off his thinking mode

He applied brakes
only to know
the real life and the turns
it takes

An office guy
had met an accident
remaining was the trampled car
while the soul had gone far

Filled with mixed feelings
of guilt and fear
sitting on the roadside
he couldn't stop his tear

Gathering himself
he kicked the bike
Mind was dumb
with no more spike

He reached home
and hugged his parents
he had got his answers
and he never laments

In spite of aiming high targets
he now accomplishes his immediate goals
Instead of showing off in the society
he plays his each and every role

For now, life is his only test
and he has to give his best

Today, an engineer near to his village
he writes and writes with courage....

I know you shake and squeak,
I bought you cheap,
Parts of you dropped below,
Down to the road,
So, I slowed,
To rescue your parted pieces.
Then back inside,
With limited tool supply,
I’d scratch my head,
And knot my brow,
As your rusted threads,
Spun round and round,
But I’d make you whole again,
My shaking, squeaking friend,
With you there is no end,
For every time your handles creak,
Any rush of air that peeps
A look through treads run bare,
I’ll carry you home,
With care,
And make you whole again.

The bullet rumbled to a stop,
Its black - clad rider at the top.
Dark glasses, leather jacket, youthful spring,
Majestic with the helmet swing.

The world round him, seemed to slow,
A playful glow, his eyes did show.
Entranced by the lady across the street,
Falling for her, advances he on quick feet.

The gorgeous girl but glanced around,
The knight in shining armour, did abound.
Returned rejected to his steady stallion,
Defeated in, the great battalion.

Her high heels, clicked in beat,
As the faint rumbling, reduced the heat.
If the prince, should ever find,
A scrawled number, in his pocket hind.

Would not we all, love to know,
What did follow !!!