sábado, 10 de janeiro de 2026

The bike riders

 Bicycles rolled down the hill toward my house
Speed of a car and fury of firey morning
They pedaled past casually sun watching
Two figures flying effortlessly down the avenue

Sunglasses hidden smiles
Calves barely flexing
Gears knocking up
some form of joy

Arousing that sense of freedom
that comes from gliding like that
Moving living feeling
Life hates us when we don't participate

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