Cycling Stories

The Story of My First Rides

September 2, 2020


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.

Lungkimpou is a university student in the state Manipur, India who’s pursuing a master’s degree in education. This short poem is about his childhood, when he couldn’t afford a bike but learned to ride on a friend’s.
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