Its a Bicycle To Ride
It’s a bicycle to ride
On a death-free roadside,
The killer cars gone to hide,
Busy traffic at its lowest tide
And catastrophe unlikely to glide!
So, why my time now bide?
For its tyres won’t ever slide;
All the slippery muddiness dried,
My concerned eyes, watchful and wide…
Journalists to never report “A rider has died”.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
