My Bike

The rush of giggles tickling my mind,
The shiver running up my spine,
As the first time I get on,
The nerves rush away.

I glide down the rustic driveway,
Almost like stacks upon stacks of metal,
The wind breeze, makes my hair glide In the sky.

Plain black with silver specks,
Orange sticks upon the wheel,
The beauty makes me feel alive.

Rumbling, and bubbling like an erupting volcano.
Shivery, and cold, as I fly down the hills.
Rocking and bumping, through gravelly surfaces.
Whenever I think of it, I get lightning strikes of joy.

This is my bike.
It’s like a horse, waiting to be mounted.
It’s like a dog, waiting to have a play.
It’s like a friend, always there for me.