Abandoned

Abandoned on the promenade, A big-wheeled trike did sit, Forlornly waiting for the tyke Who should be riding it. I passed it on my morning walk, When few are up and out And seeing it, I wondered What its story was about. For why was it forgotten? Did the mom leave in a rush? Or the dad or sitter tending to A child’s scraped knee a’gush? Or perhaps they came across some friends And headed to the swings With the tricycle remaining there, Ignored for better things. I hope someone remembers it And comes to take it home, Where it belongs much more Than as a subject for a poem.