A passing lyric

Bike ride

Bike ride

Handle bars centred, keeping it steady 

“Don’t push off the ground until you are ready”

Says mum as I leave and she starts to get smaller

Her gentle advice, turning into a holler.

”Don’t go too far” she shouts “don’t leave my sight”

My wheels turning faster as i start to take flight.

Fresh air in my lungs and the wind in my hair 

No thoughts and no worries, I don’t have a care.

The ground is smooth and the space is wide

Nothing’s felt the same since that first bike ride.