My Bike, Bag and Me
I ride along,
This rough road long_
Everywhere silence is tense,
But i ride in pretense.
The sun showers his golden radiance
Over my supple face in the clearance;
Night will soon be on his way,
And all creatures to their homes clad and gay.
The gentle breeze the trees sway
And a squirrel leaps out of my way!
To me alone life belongs;
Oh, am out of the town throngs!
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