All the Seasons Long

The breeze is blowing on my shoulders
as I pedal hard through the snow.
My tired legs just won't give up,
my chilly cheeks aglow.

The wind is hitting my bike with a force
so strong that I cannot fight it, of course.
The cold is slowly getting to me,
my voice is crackly, dry and hoarse.

And I know that it's winter,
And I know it is cold,
But I can't stop biking,
All the winter long.

The leaves are falling slowly down,
I've rode my bike all over town,
My shoes are squeaking as I ride,
my hair is whipped around.

The crisp fall colors surround me,
and I stop for breath as I buy some sweets,
I munch on them as I ride,
up the hill and around the creek.

And I know that it is fall,
And I know it is cool,
But I can't stop biking,
All the fall long.

I sit and ride all morning,
no time for any mourning.
The spring has come,
and I am done, the days so awfully boring.

I pick a dandelion,
as I pedal by one,
I blow it as I go,
watching it blow away, and it's gone.

And I know that it is spring,
And I know it is warm,
But I can't stop biking,
All the spring long.

Now comes the most painful season,
and I hope to bike for no reason.
The hot has crept upon me,
And I know that this is treason.

And I know that it's summer,
And I know it is hot,
But I can't stop biking,
All the summer long.

Copyright © Morgan Pontious | Year Posted 2016

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