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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2191755
May Entry for The Taboo Words Contest
The little boy on his little frame
Creaking through a belt of chain
He tilted left and tilted right
As he wobbled down a crowded lane

Thrice or more he kissed the road
Swerved aside by engined bulks
Who noticed not that slender mode
Left behind in their asphalt dust

With shaking hands, he hauled his steed
The ride's intent has lost its thrills
Limping steps trailed from the streets
When roused his ears by familiar trills

Turned his head to joyfully greet
A peloton of kindred peers
Their waving arms beckoned him
To draft behind their echelon steer

Breaking from the trafficked way
They journeyed on the protected lane
And though the boy his knees bled out
He sprintered through beyond his pain

Along the serene path where he is safe
The little boy had found his place
With his fellow riders pacelining beside
He could partake in their friendly race

Thus he treadled forward with his heels
Wiry shanks on the quill road spun
Then his noisy world blurred like a dream
And fractured colours merge into one

Form: Quatrain
Line count: 28
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2191755