THE MAGIC BIKE

THE MAGIC BIKE

20 May

Written By Francesca Bossert

I have a magic bike,

That can be anything I like.

I’ve owned it since I was a teen,

It’s lasted decades, just like me!

It’s been a pony, a piebald ,

(That’s black and white if you didn’t know).

I rode that pony everywhere,

His name was Chocolate Éclair.

Later it became a horse,

A show jumper, jet-black of course.

I called him Star, he was the best

We won the cup at each contest.

Later, my bike helped me act cool,

And flirt with boys outside my school.

I’d hang around with Carolien,

Wait for my crush to cycle by!

We rode our bikes all over town,

To parties, discos, each other’s homes.

Summer holidays, swimming pools,

We often broke the traffic rules.

And then one day we all got cars,

And stashed our bikes in an armoire.

For decades magic was replaced

By rushing around doing things posthaste.

And then one day some years ago,

There were less cars upon the road.

A nasty virus, a worldwide cac,

Encouraged cyclists to come back!

So, I dug out my magic bike,

Removed the cobwebs, changed the tires.

I checked the brakes, serviced the gears,

Praying this wouldn’t end in tears!

I hadn’t cycled for so long,

So many things could go so wrong!

Gingerly I climbed aboard,

This bike I’d lovingly restored.

I found the pedals, engaged my core,

Wondered if biking might make me sore.

Then off I went! It was such fun!

Although it slightly hurt my bum…

I found the piebald, the jet-black horse,

The schoolyard crushes, and so much more!

I don’t bike quite so far these days,

The traffic makes me quite afraid.

Nevertheless, I always find,

That biking’s magic for my mind

I feel fourteen when I crouch low,