Written for: Friday Writings #59: Wheels
(posted by Rommy)
"Use the word wheels or wheel somewhere in your piece."
thin tall tires
that wheeled me
anywhere I fancied.
Now I cannot ride–
too much time
Second favorite form
metal roller skates
with clamps and a key
to tighten them. Up
and down hills
in the playground,
and on concrete streets,
we skated faster
and faster. Almost
as fast as years
swiftly pass by.
I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York.
My goal is to create and share poetry with others
who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve
in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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I still have my shoe skates but haven’t used them in years. I met my first Mrs. Jim at a skating rink, a nice one, even had and organ with a live player. I don’t blame you for not biking either. We sold our bikes, both have artificial joints, hip for Mrs. Jim, knee for me. I dread what kind of damages a fall would cause. Mrs. Jim got her wheel tangled in a big crack in the cement on top a levee, she almost fell about twenty feet down onto weeds and the beach.
That would certainly rule out biking!
You make both sets of wheels sound like fun for the kid you were. Alas, I never learned to use either.
Both fun; both impossible now.
I wish I had been braver and learned to do either of those as a kid. I might still learn to ride a bike someday.
I like a bike–not really a practical means of transport in the mountains, but a great toy for kids.
Well, growing up with concrete everywhere
makes biking easier.