"Freedom Rider"
The bright, royal blue preschool sweatshirt and sweatpants nearly
Matched the color of my new bike speckled
With Care bears. It was in direct
Contrast with the deep jade
Grass on which I was straddling
My bike.
The training wheels had come off
Mere seconds before.
Tiny foot on the left peddle.
Tiny foot on the right peddle.
My grandpa secured the bike with a youthful hand
By the back of the seat.
“One, two, three,” he said.
The muscles in my minuscule legs
Pushed hard on the peddles,
Forming a perfect cyclic movement,
And the bike propelled forward.
For a few seconds, my hair was
Blowing in the wind, and the breathe in
My lungs was pumped out by the freedom
Of riding.
Abruptly leaning, leaning
To the right, the ground and I
Became friends as the bike
Pressed me to the ground.
With the green of the grass encountering
The blue of my knees, I turned
To see my grandpa coming towards me.
To help me ride again.
