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A Poem on Cycling

My Joy of Cycling

My bike to me is a thing of joy,
More than just an expensive toy.
It carries me here, and there, and back,
On a road, a lane or cycle track.

I push the pedals and the wheels whizz along,
My heart soars with a joyous song.
Cares pass me by, my mind is clear,
My bike takes me where I choose to steer.

Moving as one in the fresh open air,
A physical exercise without compare.
Cycling keeps me healthy, happy and fit,
Perfect reasons for doing it.

So cycling to me is a wonderful thing,
In summer, autumn, winter and spring.
The hills may be hard with the wind in my face
But cycling is something that I will never replace.


MENG CHARSWAY on April 15, 2019:

My bike to me is a tool of pain

More than just a way to train.

I carry it up there and back

an iron maiden for my legs, or a rack.

I push the pedals and wail along

my heart screams a horrid song

no one passes me my mind is clear

my pain takes me to depths where others fear.

moving along as a fish gulping air

a great cavernous pain without compare.

cycling keeps me filthy, furious, and fit,

the perfect reasons for doing it.

so cycling to me is a woeful thing.

the hills in e'vry season are filled with my shrieking

the mountains are good and hard with the pain in my eyes

but another cyclist will never, NEVER pass me by.


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