ABC - The Blog

The beautiful sun and the clear sky now gone,
One last cold swim and November's ending.
Cold winds and wet roads now there is,
Black clouds gather and December's coming.

A child rides his bike along a thoughtful road,
Away from the cars and along the shore.
In that silence and at the pace of his cycle,
He thinks of his memories, wishes and more.

But the whistling winds against the flapping sails,
And the whispering of leaves and tightening of ropes.
They pull the child from oh such deep thoughts,
The child loses grip, so scaringly from the hopes.

So the child rides faster, and the trees fly past,
Straight ahead, a quick turn and an uphill.
The child cycles ahead uncertain of his way,
But he is focused with a long trip to fulfill.

It is only too soon that the child is tired,
Breathing heavily after so much he fought.
He stops and rests, certainly a merited break,
But only gains, the sorrow of a recurring thought.

Quickly the child gets back on his bike,
Tired he continues to cycle against the blow,
Hope makes one so vulnerable and so weak,
But deep inside, he fears letting it go.