At Four Past Forty
Up the hill peddaling with hearts bent on unmoving pedals
Gliding in the play at the top, but do not forget the hill
Which Hill?
The one that was so hard to climb
Bike tires don't know physics and the mind forgets gravity
Speed is wanted up
Speed is given down
ZOOM
I'm winning the race, they are in my dust
Screaming at me to stop, I won't give in
VROOM
Gawking
Bump, lean, flying
flying, flying, flying
FLOP
Not even rolling can stop me from winning, I have gained to much of a lead
Head smashes, wrist snaps, and a crowd is around me
Where did they come from?
Did I win?
Mom is in a tissy, "MOVE YOUR ARM!"
"I can't" a whisper, it won't move, but it doesn't hurt
I don't want to cry, crying is for wusses
"MOVE YOUR ARM!"
"I can't" I whisper.
Creative Outpost
