Cycling

A poem I wrote a few weeks ago about realising you're not the person you've always been. Growing up, in some respects. I'm not really sure that I want to grow up, but we all change regardless.

Can I pedal backwards?

I wonder.

I wonder when this stopped being fun.

I think it was 170 meters up,

But I wonder if it ever was,

If I ever was.

I can't pedal backwards,

But I could stop.

Just stop.

Feel the hill get closer as I tip,

Till my bike plummets down the drop.

My skin would grow ragged, rip,

But I'd be off.

500 meters up.

I must've liked this at 160.

I like it now,

I tell myself.

I'm lying.

Because I can't pedal backwards.

Just stop.

My body screams.

You don't like this.

I like this!

Liar.

I pull off to the side at 600 meters,

And start to wheel my bike back down slowly.

Pedalling forwards,

Backwards.

Reviews

[Ken e Bujold]

very impressive poem Ruby. Thrills me whenever I see fresh new voices taking up the torch to write. Best of luck in your future writes. If this is to be the beginning, I see grand mountains to be climbed by you.

ken

[RubyR]

Thank you so much!