My Purple Bicycle

My purple bicycle,

is still in the garage,

gathering rust, and dust.

I’m not sure,

if I’ll use it again,

as a tired mother,

of two little children—

but it has paid,

for itself, by it's service.

For years, I rode it—

to neighborhood places,

to parks, and lakes,

marshes to beaches,

fairs, to churches,

discovering, birding,

foraging, learning,

amusement gathering.

It had been my vehicle,

my reliable ally,

helping me bond,

with the new land,

I came to live in,

as an immigrant.

I would stop by,

whenever I wanted—

to see things of interests

to photograph, to notice,

and then move on.

I carried autumn leaves,

plush toys, fruits,

food for the ducks,

or flowers for bouquets.

I wasn’t afraid,

to venture to unknown,

secluded regions—

for I had this companion

to ride and flee,

if danger showed up.

It has been,

a valuable friend,

with whom I shared

history to mastery,

and want around,

as long as I can.