For years it was left unmourned in the ruinous shed -
Mice had nibbled its sad tyres -
Cobwebs festooned the frame -
Anne has rescued it from rusty oblivion -
I'll ride it again, wearing a Red Indian headdress -
I'll remember the first bike I ever rode -
My dad, running behind me, holding onto the saddle -
My dad, letting go -
The wind in my hair -
The alley flying past -
The new world before me -
14.44
Sunday 26 August 2018
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