Boxing Day Blues
My dad got on his bicycle to ride to Spondon village,
to say Happy Christmas to his dear old mum.
He rode across the fields and by the River Derwent,
it was a frosty morning, but bright in the sun.
He left the riverside and climbed up by the bridge
onto the carriageway and along the cycle path.
At the railway crossing he cut off down the lane,
by the scrap dealers and an old tin bath.
Across the level crossing by the side of the station
over the canal bridge and pass the Moon Hotel.
Onward towards Lodge Lane and his next turn right
where he hit the pavement and very nearly fell.
Number two Willowcroft Road was his destination,
he wasn’t expected, so his mum would be surprised.
Catching his breath for a second at the open back door,
his mother said, “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Happy Christmas mum, ” he said as he kissed her cheek.
“Happy Christmas George, I’ll make a fresh pot of tea.”
As they sat chatting, his brothers came through the door,
“Happy Christmas George, ” said Frank, Jim and Alfie.
“George, have you got time to come for a drink?
We’re going for a bevy down the Moon.
We’ll also have a laugh and a few hands of cards,
and generally enjoy the afternoon.”
He said he had and kissed his mum goodbye,
and off they walked down to the Moon.
They were pleased and happy to be together again
and arrived at the pub exactly at noon.
Now my dad was by no means a drinking man
and one Milk Stout was all he would drink,
but when The Moon closed that afternoon,
he had more than one too many I think.
Happily, he said goodbye to his brothers,
as he mounted his bicycle to ride home.
His balance was decidedly questionable
and more so when he rode over a stone.
As he cycled his stomach began churning
and his head began to spin inside.
By the riverside he fell off his bicycle
and vomited on the grass where he lied.
He managed to straighten the seat and handlebars,
and remounted his bicycle once again,
but twice more he fell off his two wheeled steed
before his front wheel got stuck in a drain.
For safety sake he pushed his bicycle along Taylor Street
and down the entry by the side of the house.
With the utmost care he placed his bicycle in the shed
whilst trying to be as quiet as a mouse.
But this mouse was unusually incredibly noisy,
as mum opened and looked out of the door.
“George, have you been drinking with your brothers? ”
“Yes dear, but I’m not going to any more.”
He then said that he didn’t want his dinner,
and fell asleep whilst watching TV.
When he awoke from his snoring slumber
he realised he hadn’t got his false teeth.
He asked my mum if she had seen them,
and she told him that she had not.
Maybe he had put them in his pocket,
or put them somewhere he’d forgot.
A horrible sense of panic came over him,
maybe they came out when he was sick?
He decided to check, so mounted his bicycle
after giving it a hefty kick.
When he arrived where he had vomited,
the sick has soaked into the ground,
and there lying on the grass were his teeth
smiling, as though glad to be found.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
My White Bicycle
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
Riding all around the street
Four oclock and theyre all asleep
Im not tired and its so late
Moving fast everything looks great.
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
See that man, hes all alone
Looks so happy but hes far from home
Ring my bell, smile at him
Better kick over his garbage bin
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
The rain comes down but I dont care
The wind is blowing in my hair
Seagulls flying in the air
My white bicycle
Lead:
Policeman shouts but I dont see him
Theyre one thing I dont believe in
Find some judge, but its not leavin
Lift both hands, his head in disgrace
Shines no light upon my face
Through the darkness, we still speed
My white bicycle and me
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
(burgess/west)
Getaway music
Copyright 1975 nazareth (dunfermline) ltd
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red BMX Bicycle
There was a small boy
In the countryside
Who had a small red BMX bicycle
Kept in the store besides the herbicides
Every evening like a cycle
He would ride down the dusty road
The sun a yellow ball
on the west side
Glittering under the sun`s rays
Was that small
RED BMX BICYCLE
There was a smaller boy
In the countryside
Who had nothing…
Totally nothing
He was a friend to the small boy
Every evening like a cycle
He would wait by the dusty road
To have a chance
On the small red BMX bicycle
His face would be all smiles
Even after falling off that
RED BMX BICYCLE
One day at dusk
The smaller boy
Stood next to the small boy
And asked
“When you grow up, would you give me this bike? ”
The small boy without thinking
Said YES..
There was a smaller boy
In the countryside
One night
He had a bad stomach ache
His mum wiping the tiny streams of tears
That fell from his small face
That was pale…
Due to dust from the dusty road
As he played with his the small boy
And rode on that
RED BMX BICYCLE
There was a small boy
In the countryside…
Now HE is all grown
And in the university
Far away in the city
That RED BMX BICYCLE
Now long gone
Given to some relative, I guess
If I could go back
To those days…
Those days with beautiful sunsets
Back in the countryside
Waiting for my chance
On my red BMX bicycle
Watching that smaller boy fall off
I would give him…
I would hand him that bicycle
And never expect it back
And watch him ride
Towards the beautiful sunset
On my red BMX bicycle
But if I can go back
All will be in vain
Because on that night…in the dark
He struggled with pain
His small heart couldn`t keep on
Outside there was rain
The gods possibly wanted to cleanse
All the evil that night
That took him away
Now I reminisce
As I keep moving on
About that smaller boy
And our small
RED BMX BICYCLE…
poem by Paul Oguda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Bicycle Poem
do not worry how the bicycle looks
ride it.
do not think how the wheel and its
spokes work
do not attempt to understand its structure
ride it.
do not think how the other people looks at
you with your bicycle
just ride it.
when you are riding it already
just feel the joy of the air that meets your face
the speed by which it takes you
to another destination
just ride it, disembark when you get there
you do not even have to own it and keep it for the rest of your life
when you get old
remember that bicycle that once gave you all the joys of riding
before you die
give it to the young
they shall have their own joys too
riding it
and perhaps they will write a poem about you
or if not
about the bicycle at least
who knows?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What That Little Boy Was Praying For
Evening
Sun is almost set
Its weak beams still
Making road side sand grains glitter
I was on a walk to a temple nearby
A scratching brake of a bicycle
Made me look up
A boy of not even ten years the bicycle rider
Stopped his bicycle
In front of the temple entrance
Not getting down form it
Closed his eyes, clasped his palms
Started a prayer
He was in that posture
For much longer than
What a passerby normally does
Turning curious I continued to watch him
Forgetting for a while my purpose of this walk
Since the boy was in the middle
Of that narrow lane
A car stopped behind him
A bike passed by him
Sounding a shrill horn
A street dog barked at the bike
Car also gave a horn
Nothing left in the boy any sign of disturbance
It would have been a full minute
Before the boy woke up to realities
And started his ride
Without even glancing those
Who were watching him
I left the scene and entered the temple
What that little boy was praying for
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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democracy in the Philippine islands
there is this little boy
who is practicing to ride a big bike
his feet are short
and so are his hands
and always
in this predicament
does he fall and tumble
the years passed
and it is the same boy again
practicing to ride his
big bicycle
sometimes i am just curious
what is this boy
eating and drinking
since his feet are still short
and his hands are still small
he never had the guts
riding his bicycle to the full
it is the same situation all over again
he falls and bleeds
and cries that the bicycle is always too big for his
short feet and small hands
he falls and he tumbles
he bleeds and he fails
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Racing to another world
One afternoon in Bedfordview, Johannesburg
we were leaving to go to a restaurant
and were in the parking lot at work,
when a black man on a bicycle
came down the hill
in Kirkby avenue,
pedalling as if possessed
and racing to another world.
He passed the motorbike
of a Links Pharmacy delivery man
and went as fast
as a racing bicycle could go
and at the t-junction
with oxford street
took a forty five degree turn
at great speed.
The man had a blazer on
and was still pedalling
as he took the turn
and the jacket opened
on his sides like wings,
before he hit the
stone edge of the road
and went straight
into a sign warning
about a stop street up ahead.
With arms spread out
like a human scarecrow,
or a shop mannequin,
he hanged with the jacket
on the sign,
as if dead
while the bicycle somersaulted
before landing against
some white stemmed blue gum trees.
Kids playing in the park were astounded
and and the people with me
and I laughed,
while he stayed motionless
hanging in the air
and other people gathered there.
l’Envoi
Within minutes an ambulance stopped
and I started feeling guilty about laughing
while they laid him down,
tried to help him in vain,
pulled a grey blanket over his body and head
and took the bicycle along
on the ride to the morgue.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Gifts
Ten Christmas presents standing in a line;
Robert took the bicycle, then there were nine.
Nine Christmas presents ranged in order straight;
Bob took the steam engine, then there were eight.
Eight Christmas presents--and one came from Devon;
Robbie took the jackknife, then there were seven.
Seven Christmas presents direct from St. Nick's;
Bobby took the candy box, then there were six.
Six Christmas presents, one of them alive;
Rob took the puppy dog, then there were five.
Five Christmas presents yet on the floor;
Bobbin took the soldier cap, then there were four.
Four Christmas presents underneath the tree;
Bobbet took the writing desk, then there were three.
Three Christmas presents still in full view;
Robin took the checker board, then there were two.
Two Christmas presents, promising fun,
Bobbles took the picture book, then there was one.
One Christmas present--and now the list is done;
Bobbinet took the sled, and then there were none.
And the same happy child received every toy,
So many nicknames had one little boy.
poem by Carolyn Wells
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A real april the fool
I cried and cried
When they told me that u died
I tried and tried
Not to believe them and think they lied
I ride and ride
And when I take a look
You were not on my side
I thought I was lost
With out a guide
Don’t wanna go back home
And find no dog on the gate
It is meant that u be mine
It is your fate
But suddenly, men crossing the road
Laughing loud like a clown band
Waved and wished me, “Happy April fools! ”
I laughed even more than theirs
And turn my bicycle
Headed home
just to find
A sad April the fool
Became so very real
June 8,2005
poem by K4me Enahreb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Countdown To Christmas Party Time
Countdown,
Countdown to christmas,
Countdown to christmas party time.
Were so happy,
We want you to be happy too.
Were so happy,
And we want to share the secrets of happiness with you.
Grab a woman beneath the mistletoe,
Kiss her lips and make her glow.
No more fighting, no more fuss,
Ah, its christmas!
Countdown,
Countdown to christmas,
Countdown to christmas party time.
Were so happy,
We want you to be happy too.
Were so happy,
And we want to share the secrets of happiness with you.
Eat and drink and dance some more,
Invite the whole street through your door.
Sing out loud, dont swear or cuss
Ah, its christmas!
Countdown,
Countdown to christmas,
Countdown to christmas party time.
Countdown,
Countdown to christmas,
Countdown to christmas party time.
Were so happy,
We want you to be happy too.
Were so happy,
And we want to share the secrets of happiness with you.
Countdown.
10 days.
Countdown to christmas.
9 days.
Countdown.
8 days.
Countdown to christmas.
7 days.
Countdown.
6 days.
Countdown to christmas.
5 days.
Countdown.
4 days.
Countdown to christmas.
3 days.
Countdown.
2 days.
Countdown to christmas.
1 day.
Ah, its christmas!
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's Christmas?
Once more the Christmas has arrived
For me and for you
It's a date to everyone get glad
And get amused united, re-united
Christmas' the Love's spirit
It's time of giving, everybody of us, the hands
And thank to God for everything we had conquered
And attained through the year
The Christmas' trees are full with message cards
The lights placed on them are radiating
Meanwhile the children sing
And your fathers get entertained talking to each other
Everything's in perfect harmony
This is the Festivity that expected
Represented by the Spirits' Greatness
Portrayed by inward Force from each of us
Expressed by the supreme God's Will
Christmas isn't earn gifts
Christmas isn't earn money
Christmas isn't only to eat and to drink
Christmas isn't just sending cards to ours acquaintances, it's to be present with them
Christmas is, really, re-unite with us ours brothers
Christmas is, really, to spend the time with your Family
Christmas is the Spirituality of Sublime and Elevated
Anyway, Christmas' a Divine tenderness
Christmas' the charm's time
When the lights that adorn everything are on
It's Christmas when the Sun, for everyone of us, shines
In this beautiful hot summer's time
Christmas' Day
A party to everybody of us share happiness
Celebrated everywhere
Heating each heart up
Christmas' Day: a meeting with all the Families
Christmas' Day: a re-union with immense links
Until the next Christmas, I desire the Families will be better
I desire too the friends will be happier
That the vital Spirit lasts within each of us
And that, finally, everybody lives always pleased
Happy Merry Christmas and prosperous New Year for you, for your Family and for everyone who you love!
poem by Light's Magus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets.
quote by Christopher Morley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Xmas
Happy christmas, kyoko.
Happy christmas, julian.
So this is christmas and what have you done?
Another year over, a new one just begun.
And so this is christmas, i hope you have fun,
The near and the dear one, the old and the young.
A very merry christmas and a happy new year,
Let's hope it's a good one without any fear.
And so this is christmas for weak and for strong,
(war is over if you want it,)
For the rich and the poor ones, the road is so long.
(war is over now.)
And so happy christmas for black and for whites,
(war is over if you want it,)
For the yellow and red ones, let's stop all the fight.
(war is over now.)
A very merry christmas and a happy new year,
Let's hope it's a good one without any fear.
And so this is christmas and what have we done?
(war is over if you want it,)
Another year over, a new one just begun.
(war is over if you want it,)
And so this is christmas, we hope you have fun,
(war is over if you want it,)
The near and the dear one, the old and the young.
(war is over now.)
A very merry christmas and a happy new year,
Let's hope it's a good one without any fear.
War is over
If you want it,
War is over now.
Happy christmas!
Happy christmas!
Happy christmas!
Happy christmas!
Happy christmas!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Xmas
Happy christmas, kyoko.
Happy christmas, julian.
So this is christmas and what have you done?
Another year over, a new one just begun.
And so this is christmas, i hope you have fun,
The near and the dear one, the old and the young.
A very merry christmas and a happy new year,
Let's hope it's a good one without any fear.
And so this is christmas for weak and for strong,
(war is over if you want it,)
For the rich and the poor ones, the road is so long.
(war is over now.)
And so happy christmas for black and for whites,
(war is over if you want it,)
For the yellow and red ones, let's stop all the fight.
(war is over now.)
A very merry christmas and a happy new year,
Let's hope it's a good one without any fear.
And so this is christmas and what have we done?
(war is over if you want it,)
Another year over, a new one just begun.
(war is over if you want it,)
And so this is christmas, we hope you have fun,
(war is over if you want it,)
The near and the dear one, the old and the young.
(war is over now.)
A very merry christmas and a happy new year,
Let's hope it's a good one without any fear.
War is over
If you want it,
War is over now.
Happy christmas!
Happy christmas!
Happy christmas!
Happy christmas!
Happy christmas!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Creation of the Moon
The man cut his throat and left his head there.
The others went to get it.
When they got there they put the head in a sack.
Farther on the head fell out onto the ground.
They put the head back in the sack.
Farther on the head fell out again.
Around the first sack they put a second one that
was thicker.
But the head fell out just the same.
It should be explained that they were taking the head
to show to the others.
They did not put the head back in the sack.
They left it in the middle of the road.
They went away.
They crossed the river.
But the head followed them.
They climbed up a tree full of fruit
to see whether it would go past.
The head stopped at the foot of the tree
and asked them for some fruit.
So the men shook the tree.
The head went to get the fruit.
Then it asked for some more.
So the men shook the tree
so that the fruit fell into the water.
The head said it couldn't get the fruit from there.
So the men threw the fruit a long way
to make the head go a long way to get it so they could go.
While the head was getting the fruit
the men got down from the tree and went on.
The head came back and looked at the tree
and didn't see anybody
so went on rolling down the road.
The men had stopped to wait
to see whether the head would follow them.
They saw the head come rolling.
They ran.
They got to their hut they told the others that the head
was rolling after them and to shut the door.
All the huts were closed tight.
When it got there the head commanded them to open the doors.
The owners would not open them because they were afraid.
So the head started to think what it would turn into.
If it turned into water they would drink it.
If it turned into earth they would walk on it.
If it turned into a house they would live in it.
If it turned into a steer they would kill it and eat it.
If it turned into a cow they would milk it.
If it turned into a bean they would cook it.
If it turned into the sun
When men were cold it would heat them.
If it turned into rain the grass would grow and the
animals would crop it.
So it thought, and it said, "I will turn into the moon."
It called, "Open the doors, I want to get my things."
They would not open them.
The head cried. It called out, "At least give me
my two balls of twine."
They threw out the two balls of twine through a hole.
It took them and threw them into the sky.
It asked them to throw it a little stick too
to roll the thread around so it could climb up.
Then it said, "I can climb, I am going to the sky."
It started to climb.
The men opened the doors right away.
The head went on climbing.
The men shouted, "You going to the sky, head?"
It didn't answer.
As soon as it got to the Sun
it turned into the Moon.
Toward evening the Moon was white, it was beautiful.
And the men were surprised
to see that the head had turned into the Moon.
The journey of life is like a man riding a bicycle. We know he got on the bicycle and started to move. We know that at some point he will stop and get off. We know that if he stops moving and does not get off he will fall off.
quote by William Golding
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Burial in the Snow
How well do I remember
Of a burial in the snow,
On a winter's evening
Some fifteen years ago;
The ground was covered over
With the beautiful crystal snow,
And it glistened in the moonlight,
Like diamonds all aglow.
It was a pleasant evening,
That merry Christmas eve;
And I never can forget, how
The frost hung on the tree.
The moon was shining clearly,
And the sleigh-bells rang so sweet;
Ah, it was splendid sleighing,
The snow was two feet deep.
My grandparents were living
Some two miles then away,
My parents went to see them,
To spend the holiday.
I went with my kind parents,
For the evening was sublime,
To see dear aunts and uncles,
And have a merry time,
I saw the beaming faces
Of my grandparents dear,
As they met us on the door-step,
With welcome words of cheer.
In fancy I can see them
As in the days of yore,
When they welcome home their children
Through the old familiar door.
The banquet board that evening,
Was filled with cake and wine,
Delicious fruits and oysters
That came from foreign clime.
It was a merry party
That met once more to roam,
My grandparents were happy,
Their children were all home.
Grandpapa said, "dear children,
Lay the tea things aside,
And some of you get ready
To take a pleasant ride.
The moon is shining clearly,
The evening is sublime,
O'er the crystal snow we'll glide,
And have a jolly time."
Hats and cloaks were soon put on,
By those who wish to go,
They were wrapped up snug and warm,
For a sleigh ride o'er the snow.
Their hearts were light and gleeful,
They rode away with ease,
I never can forget them,
Or that merry Christmas eve.
On that beautiful evening,
They rode five miles away,
O'er hills, and dales, and frozen snow,
With prospects bright and gay.
They came to their journey's end,
And soon were homeward bound,
A more joyous, happy band
Was nowhere to be found,
The merry sleigh bells ringing
Out on the midnight air,
And merry voices singing
All "right side up with care! "
The horses were high-spirited,
They ran away, and lo!
Broke loose from the sleigh, and left
It buried in the snow.
The people of that party
Lay scattered all around,
Some were frightened, others laughed,
To think it happened so,
That the end of their sleigh ride
Was a burial in the snow.
Yet they were gay and happy,
The bright moon o'er them shone,
And laughing o'er their sleigh ride,
They all went trudging home.
Some of those friends are dead and gone,
That met in that old home,
And never will we meet again,
Around that dear hearth stone.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Money Plays with Us
When we are without money, we eat vegetables at home;
When we have money, we eat vegetables in a fine restaurant.
When we are without money, we ride bicycle to work;
When we have money, we ride bicycle to exercise.
When we are without money, we walks to eat food;
When we have money, we walks to burn food.
When we are without money, we wish to get married;
When we have money, we wish to get divorced.
When we are without money, we acts like a rich;
When we have money, we acts like a pauper.
We say share market is bad but we keep on speculating;
We say money is evil but we keep on craving for it.
We say high positions are risky but we keep on struggling for it;
We say gambling & drinking is bad but we keeps on indulging on it.
O People!
Be content with whatever you have
And thank God for whatever you have
poem by Imran Khan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Had Me A Real Good Time
(ron wood, rod stewart & ronnie lane)
Steady all day!
Thought I was lookin good
So I cycled cross the neighbourhood
Was invited by a skinny girl
Into her high class world
Left my bicycle under the stairs
Laid my coat across the kosher chairs
Made my way across the crowded room
I had nothing to lose
My reception wasnt very keen
So turning on a friendly grin,
Stood on the table with my glass of gin
And came straight to the point
I was glad to come
Ill be sad to go
So while Im here
Ill have me a real good time
I was glad to come
Ill be sad to go
So while Im here
Ill have me a real good time. oh no
Dancin madly round the room, yeah
Singing loudly and sorta out of tune
Was escorted by a friendly slag
round the ... back
Wandered c-c-cross ...
Missed my step and I fell on the floor.
Said one word and was asked to leave
Kinda wish I was dead.
I was glad to come
And Ill be so sad to leave,
But while I was here
I had me a real good time, oooh.
The skinny girl made it clear,
That she only came here for the beer - thats a fact, oh yeah
The vicar he simply reeked of gin - good god
On my way home I happened to fall off my bicycle, good party
Ooh hoo, ha ha, yeah
I was glad to come, but I was also glad to get home, yeah
Ooh hoo
Hoo, get in there
Ooh hoo
[bark]
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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South Carolina
The other day my neighbor has a dented bike
Second day he called me from intensive care
Says he needs a picture of the dented bike
For the evidence of what a wreck he had
Accident
Accident
Lift that fork, eat that snail
Garcon summoned, have a new cocktail
Lift that fork, eat that snail
Garcon summoned, have a new cocktail
Crash my bicycle
Crash my bicycle
In a big south carolina wreck
I crash my bicyle
Crash my bicycle
Crash my bicycle
In a big south carolina wreck
I crash my bicyle
And I won some damages and they were punitive
By which I mean the punishment was damaging
It crushed my head
It crushed my head
Garcon, wheres my drink?
Wreck!
Observe the front wheel spinning upside down
Wreck!
The red reflector fragments strewn around
Wreck!
The back wheels o is now a letter d
Wreck!
I was an i and now I am a v
Lift that fork, eat that snail
Garcon summoned, have a new cocktail
Lift that fork, eat that snail
Garcon summoned, have a new cocktail
Crash my bicycle
Crash my bicycle
In a big south carolina wreck
I crash my bicyle
Crash my bicycle
Crash my bicycle
In a big south carolina wreck
I crash my bicyle
If I had to do it all again, buy* bicycle
If I had to do it, I would crash my bicycle
Id crush my head
Collect the bread
Crash my bicycle
Move along folks
Push her back there, move along
Shows over, folks
Let him breathe, step lively
Move along folks
Push her back there, move along
Shows over, folks
Let him breathe, step lively
Fork (fork)
Snail (snail)
Garcon (garcon)
Cocktail (cocktail)
Fork (fork)
Snail (snail)
Garcon (garcon)
Cocktail (cocktail)
Move along folks
Push her back there, move along
Shows over, folks
Let him breathe, step lively
Move along folks
Push her back there, move along
Shows over, folks
Let him breathe, step lively
Move along folks
Push her back there, move along
Shows over, folks
Let him breathe, step lively
Move along folks
Push her back there, move along
Shows over, folks
Let him breathe, step lively
Move along folks
Push her back there, move along
Shows over, folks
Let him breathe, step lively
Move along folks
Push her back there, move along
Shows over, folks
Let him breathe, step lively
Move along folks
Push her back there, move along
Shows over, folks
Let him breathe, step lively
Move along folks
Push her back there, move along
Shows over, folks
Let him breathe, step lively
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Cycle Rides
Quite often, on a Sunday morning,
Dad and I would take a cycle ride.
Up the steep hills, we would struggle,
But, down them, we would glide.
We’d cycle to villages like Monxton,
Abbott’s Ann and St Mary Bourne.
We’d pass fields of lowing cattle,
As well as fields of golden corn.
Once, as we were passing some sheep,
I gently applied my brakes and stopped.
I stood watching the cute little lambs,
As they leapt, and jumped, and hopped.
We would cycle along the back roads,
And whiz along winding, country lanes.
I felt happy enough when the sun was out,
But not so much so, when it began to rain.
Along the roads, we’d pass babbling brooks,
And horses with rhythmic clip-clopping hooves.
We’d pass village greens with duck ponds,
And pretty little cottages with thatched roofs.
But our cycle rides abruptly came to an end,
When, one day, my Dad suddenly died.
Nowadays, I don’t even own a bicycle,
But I really miss our Sunday cycle rides.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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