When she rides her bike she feels ten, again
Wind in her hair, racing down the street, switching the gears
On her bike she has no bills, or worries, or fears
She does not feel her ascending years
And happiness is the sound of pedals whipping ’round,
and wheels to the ground, and is found
and found (and found again)
in moments so precious
they make her feel like a kid.
Like she’s ten,
again.
And climbing a steep hill is a force of will – a mountain of hardship
That makes her want to cry it’s so hard
But her mother, her soul, is calling her home
From across the open yards
So she pushes to the top because
it’s impossible to stop
she won’t ever stop
For the reward from the crest
Is sweet and swift
A furious pace –
They see it, the fierceness in her face
They watch her fly – they see her race
because she means business
Down, down, down the other side
with powerful freedom, won
because she knows, she just knows
that when she rides her bike, she becomes herself again
Like when she was ten –
When she rides her bike, my friend
she grips the handlebars tight
And then
she lets go.
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