My Bicycle

Once I had a bicycle, A loving present from my grandfather; Since I was his favorite granddaughter, He granted my wish at a snap of my finger . Since he was so old, A new bicycle he could hardly afford; He took his bike when he was young, Which I found it once at the back of our barn. As far as I remember, It was really so old and rugged; But my grandpa was like Mr. Mac-Gyber, Amazingly fixing all things all-over. My granda was a well-known painter, I thought he will repaint and use sandpapers; When I surreptitiously sneaked into his hut, He was there recycling all my milk cans. When everything was done, He gladly gave it to me with a big hug; I hurriedly drove it at once, Down the street and field with so much fun. “My bike was real a unique one!” I thought. So different from others in our neighborhood, Its wailing siren was made up of a cow’s horn, Tubes were made of dried bamboos and corn. Other parts were still the same, Like forks, hubs and chainwheel set, The rest were made up of my milk cans, They were pedal, brake and seatgear stem. Handle bars were what I liked most, Converted from the handle of his old plow; So sturdy and so strong all I knew, And I can drive it so long in full control. However, when I travelled quite afar, Parts were falling one at a time; Until everything suddenly split apart, Eventually it dropped and rolled me down. ©2012Leonora Galinta All Rights Reserved Date: Aug. 3, 2012 4th Place Winner (My Very First Winning Poem) Contest: Any Poem of the Week Contest Contest Judged: 8/4/12 Poet Sponsor: Secret