Day 10 of the 30 Reblogs of November and a reminder of spring
I remember a purple bike,
An incongruous relic even then
To my child’s eye.
As I wobbled after my mum,
Stabilisers gone, pink
Elephant legs whirring furiously.
As we pedalled past houses,
Bumped up over kerbs, cycled down
The bronze hued road of memory
Towards the wood where the flowers grew.
Those mischievous angels in the dust,
That shone out from beneath the trees.