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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2007923-Stationary-Bike
by Care
Rated: E · Other · Entertainment · #2007923
Not sure what to call this? Poem, very short story, outline?
Riding my stationary bike through beautiful meadows of wild flowers – I love flowers, but I hate flowers. They are so fragrant and full of life, but they die.

I keep riding and cross an old rickety covered bridge and begin to ride along the side of a stream. The water is rushing to the mouth of the lake like marathon runners trying to be the first to cross the finish line. I love the stream, but I hate the stream. The sound is so beautiful in the quite outdoors, but it is rushing so fast – I cannot win the race.

As I slow down, I come upon an old stone house. It is obvious no one has lived in that house for a very long time. The grass is long and it has taken over where the drive way used to be. The windows are broken and the back door is hanging on its hinges. I stop and take a look inside. It is dark and musty smelling. I remember my grandma’s house smelling like that so I slowly go inside trying to remember days of old when my grandma was alive, cooking dinner, washing laundry and listening to a soap on the radio….. I love this house, but I hate this house. Such wonderful memories, but my grandma is dead.

Beep, Beep, Beep… my time is up...
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2007923-Stationary-Bike