Two Wheels, One Heart (Almost)
I dreamed of roads not walked but wheeled,
Of gravel paths and tires sealed,
Of sunlit mornings side by side,
You, and me, on a morning bike ride.
I’d speak in tones both sweet and bold,
Of frames in purple and gears of gold,
“A bike that’s built with you in mind—
Se xy, safe, fast…a rare design.”
I pictured trips with maps unrolled,
Family tours through fields and corn,
Picnics packed and tires spinning,
Memories made, the whole clan grinning.
But your eyes never matched my pace,
No spark, no thrill lit up your face.
You’d gently smile—or just say no,
And let the hope fall soft as snow.
You turned me down, again, again,
My offers met with cool refrain.
My Hail Mary: “A gym?” I asked. “Yoga?”
You shook your head, just told me no.
I bargained dreams, I begged, I tried,
But saw the truth you couldn’t hide.
This wasn’t yours—it’s mine alone,
No shared pursuit, just me, wind-blown.
So I let go the tandem view,
Strapped on my shoes, chased skies of blue.
With friends I ride, with legs set free,
But still, I’d wished you’d ride with me.
Some passions bloom, some seeds don’t grow—
Love makes space to let that show.
And though you’re not beside my wheel,
I ride on strong. I ride and heal.
© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.
I wrote most of this in 2022 while on a solo trip to Kansas to do Unbound for the first time.
