The Story of My First Rides

Miles away, my school from home,
Walk the miles to reach the place.
Not a bus or a service that lifts.
Every day, we went together,
That friend who lives in between.
He waits, and sometimes waited I.

Met a cycle, me for the first.
As I stepped in the gate to call my friend.
Black in colour, medium in size.
Not be mine, but own the bliss.
Never been near to it before.
Hope was born, I was moved to touch.

There, a change in time, in me,
Each day, fully on the run.
Early in time, fast in speed.
Running the road to catch a thing.
The unready time of him, I took the chance.
To hold the new shiny handles before the school.

Zeal to learn, fear to fall,
Walk together, like me and mine shadow.
But each day, I see myself getting ready.
Slowly betrayed myself of fear.
Slowly learned my feet to leave the ground,
Pedals the pedal, and roll the wheels.

Not a chance to own but a chance to hold a one.
Fear becomes unprecedented, courage becomes the existence.
How I learned to ride a cycle.
Were the days I always remembered
Each time, I ride through the road fearlessly.