COVID lockdown, jammed vehicles
Stirred to expose my old bicycle
My old parents had exigency of medicine
I remember
Didn’t forget
In the scorching June noon
On rough and ruined road
People scoffed at me
For being a ripe-aged old woman cyclist
Yet
My bulging nostrils and soul-stirring smile
Incited them even more
The outworn, faded, and rusty cycle
Kept racing with the same esteem
By which space shuttles blast
In the front row, I picked up medicine
Nobody scolded me to break the line
Astonished, they were rather
Once again, on the road I was
Kept quiet, all the mockers now
Just like a winning cyclist
I leaned it against the main gate
The smile on wrinkled faces
Left me tight-lipped
Outside, patted my conveyance
Flooding tears mixed with sweat
All I gained by my bicycle
Which was lost