Bicycle
I went for a bike ride,
And I met a pretty girl.
She was on foot,
And I noticed her hair in curls.
I got off my bike and walked it,
And together we did chat...
I forgot about my freedom,
And wind blowing on my hat.
We talked about silly things,
All now but gone to past;
Along with my nice bicycle,
That I lent out too fast.
Now I'm the one that goes by stride,
As I no longer have my ride!
3-September-2021
Copyright © Robert James Liguori | Year Posted 2021
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