the bicycle there! still not lost...

There lies the bicycle...
Against the rusty iron-gate...
I look at its handlebar, still not lost...
Its hand grips have the shine still...
The pedals...one of them broken...make screeching sound...
The tyres are flat...the spokes are brown and reddish...rusty...doubtless...
I touch its leather seat...small...but sturdy...could still carry my weight
As it used to carry my five year old body...
My aunt gave it to me once, on my  fifth birthday....

O how many adventures we took part in-me and my bicycle dear!
We rode through the mud and the slush...
Once while returning home, after heavy rains-
When the ponds brimmed over to the streets...
I fell into a pond with it...someone pulled me and my bicycle luckily...saving us from being choked under water...hyacinth filled....e.azurea...
We were retrieved...then by that kind soul;

The bicycle mine!
Still not lost...
Rusty might be...
But who doesn't be?



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