Alone on the path untaken before
The old ones are known too well.
World is screaming.
There is no stopping the tiny me, the timid me.
Fresh morning breeze is my fuel.
No helmet or knee guards
Riding at my limit or eye balls out, whatever you call it
Noises surround the existence,
Independence is what I feel.
Women and children first, when in danger
What defines danger?
Fear, I guess…
I ride as fast as my aching feet will paddle.
I can leave any danger behind at this speed.
Pretentious speed bumps are no challenge.
I have ridden off them before and I can do it all over again.
Late, fallen, bruised, shamed…
All are now a fading memory.
Freedom is what I remember.
Dreaming in the moonlight of the morning sun,
The endured old paths are calling, “come back”
“you left yourself behind.”
No don’t say it.
Just shut down, for time once gone never returns.
Letting go is the aim, so I have heard.
‘Holding on’ is a different kind of independence, I say.
So take the next step.
Safe or not, time will tell.
Black Coffee and Grey Stories 