Precious Cargo
The sidewalk stretched for miles
that concrete roadside line.
It swerved and curved,
and dipped and rose.
Alongside U.S. 29.
We knew each crack, and every hole.
and every bump and drain.
Knew when to coast the downhills
and when to grind the chain.
Our bikes gave us our freedom.
We rolled and strolled and went
to every little country store
where dimes and nickels spent.
We'd gather up five bottles
to equal one thin dime.
And that was always just enough
For RC-Cola time.
Those carefree days of riding
when ne'er a danger stood.
To school and towns and ball fields,
most any place we could.
Those days seem gone forever,
for evil now abounds.
It's hiding in the night air.
It lingers on the grounds.
So listen children, stay alert.
Be careful; don't far go.
For you're our hope and future,
our sweet, precious cargo.
Most precious, priceless cargo.
Copyright © David Brooks | Year Posted 2016
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