Cycling Stories

Your Bicycle

August 31, 2020

author:

Your Bicycle

And I remember how warm your hands were when, too cold by my fears, you made me shiver  

You had this calm, yet thrilling, personality that always cooled me down 

When busy chasing my dreams, disappointed, I ended, or when depressed, I lost all hope of succeeding  

I remember how confidently you took my hand and gave me a ride on your bicycle 

And for a moment, with the wind lifting my dress, you made me rediscover the simple pleasures of life, most of the time ignored and rushed  

It is on your bicycle that for the first time, I saw flowers move so gracefully to the sound of the mighty wind  

It is on your bicycle I discovered that trees could sing, and mountains tamed 

On your bicycle, mornings smelled wild and life felt light  

It was nothing compared to the busy, noisy, corrupt life I was used to … it was a bouquet of freshness  

On your bicycle, tomorrow’s fears and struggles didn’t matter, ‘cause I owned the present and was the master of my destiny. When I opened my arms, I had the world in the palm of my hands. Then, no horizons were unreachable. 

And when on my knees I fell, tired of all the bruises and blues life had offered me, it was the memory of your bicycle that made me believe that I could face—and not escape—the problems  

Sometimes, when ill-desired, I recklessly wanted to take my own life. It was again the memory of your bicycle that reminded me how colourful and simple life was, and that I was trying so hard to impress the world, fit in their busy schedule, looking for happiness when it was always at hand 

Like my most beautiful dream, your bicycle has been my most beautiful experience 

Christine is originally from Congo but currently lives in Kenya. She loves writing and morning bicycle rides, thanks to a dear friend.
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