A Simple Passion

I put you on a stand; some say it is a pedestal. I appear before you; I am in awe of the work before me. Sometimes life is but a flat tire; air is such a revitalizer! In you, in me! I carefully inspect each wheel of contention; the spokes Of time invade my domain. And still, I can see you smile when no one else can! I lovingly caress, polish and oil the sprocket and chain of a dream, Waiting in the wings, amid the flare. I have made all the necessary adjustments, my brakes cannot fail, Possibly open the road for destruction of my 'revolutions' per minute. Sese, my dearest friend, my physician, inscribed my simple passion; Not for diagnosis, rather a means to diagnose. As the miles of life, [many in my rear view mirror now], fill my odometer, The reflectors on my chrome fenders show it has been a good ride, On my own saddle, without a prescribed route! The sun darts in and out of the clouds, motionless in all this movement; And yet likens itself to me, stationary, and yet moving! I mount my handsome steed, indelible polished hues of green, the annual Maintenance complete! The Green Hornet, a pedal bike, rides again! Throw me a headwind, I shan't care, In this life, it is far easier to ride on air!