Cycling Stories

Not Merely a Cycle

August 28, 2020


Not Merely a Cycle

Years ago, you came into my life 
As a Christmas gift from my mom. 
When I fell, so you fell 
no one can understand the pain of my   
wounds better than you, darling. 
Keeping hands on your hands (handles) 
I dare to run miles through narrow pathways. 
The clinking from the round, 
metallic ornament (bell) on your hand 
Fills me with new energy. 
You are the one who knows 
How desperate I become to reach home. 
You are the witness to hundreds of hills 
And fields and parks I have seen. 
I can’t even mention the joy of it 
When you and I are together, and 
Strong winds pass, touching our bodies. 
Dear cycle, you are my best friend 
As you know me better than anyone. 
And you’re dearest to the nature, too 
As you don’t smoke unlike others.

Champa Devi is 18 years old and lives in India. His father, who owns a small bicycle repair shop and believes that bikes are our friends, inspired him to write this poem.
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