Urban Rancher Publishing

My Bike     
As he sat rocking on his porch one evening, watching the sunset up the canyon, the Urban Rancher was reflecting on his life, and he thought back to the days of his childhood, and began remembering people and events which shaped him into the person he is now.

In those days, he didn't have a horse -- he had a different type of steed ...

 

Poems

The Urban Rancher
My Bike
Childhood's Maze
It's Almost Too Late
Little Brother
Floppy-Eared Dog
Only in Estes
Midlife
Death of an Old Friend
Flowers
The Mirror
McGraw Ranch
The Breakfast Ride
The Steak Fry
The Old Cowboy
The Mummy
The Ride
The Character
Our Steeds
The Garden
The Honeymoon Night
The Perfume
The Last Ranch
Patterns
Our Reunion
Where Are You Now?
The Forties
Mortality
Co-Dependents
Make Some Memories
Reflections
The High Country
How Can We Help?
Skybear
One of Those Days
The Vultures
Looking Backwards

As a small boy, I had very few friends,
I knew not how to be someone to like.
So my faithful companion, my comrade-in-arms,
Was my big old balloon-tired bike.

It wasn't a racer, it had only one speed,
But it opened up whole worlds to me.
I'd take off and ride all over the town,
It relieved the sadness, and just let me be.

On a hot summer day, I'd ride several miles,
Up a long steep hill at the end.
And a wonderful day at the top of the hill
At the big swimming pool I would spend.

It was a huge pool then, hollowed out in the sand,
Nothing fancy, but lots of water and space.
There were tales of turtles, and golf balls to find,
For me, it was a wonderful place.

Thirty-some years later, I drove past our old home,
Up the streets to that pool in the sun.
Now it's much smaller, all concrete and slides,
Much safer, but not nearly so much fun.

The hill is much shorter, and not nearly as steep,
The ride back down not so thrillingly fast.
The trees are much taller, the houses not so big,
Even the bandstand in the park did not last.

We lived by a park, a block square it was,
My playground for many a day.
The main path which circled it now is no more,
But I hear the echoes of we kids at play.

A master I was as we played "Kick the Can",
My boldness and cunning helped me win.
I'd hide right in the open, and rarely get caught,
It was the trees and bushes they'd look in.

It was a different time then, it was safe to be out,
Spend the evening playing in the park.
We had a few scary times, as all kids do,
But all in all, it was quite a lark.

There was a bandstand then, and every Thursday eve,
The town band would play for so long.
We'd sit on our porch swing, and clap and applaud,
The cars would honk their horns after each song.

The sound of that music on those warm summer nights,
The peace and harmony in my soul.
I realize now are my most treasured memories,
Of those years in my life with no goal.

It's a magical night, as I look back in time,
And the windows to my memories open wide.
For it helps me understand the person I am,
By releasing those memories inside.

It paints me a picture of a peace I'd forgotten,
Of a gentleness of life that's missing today.
As I spend my time working in so many ways,
Not taking nearly enough time to play.

Perhaps one day soon, I'll get a bike again,
A touring cycle, the top of the line.
And I'll take the time to go out into the world,
And experience that feeling so fine.

Of the wind in my hair, of the sound of the bike,
Of the vistas and distance so far,
I'll be out there being in the picture of life,
Not looking through the windows of a car.

I'm a big kid now, so it'll be a big kid's bike,
With all the accessories so great.
For the first time now, I understand the appeal
Of a touring cycle -- it's still not too late!

What about you? Do you remember your bike,
And all the miles and memories that you made?
Perhaps you, too, will find the lure of the bike,
As more attention to your childhood is paid!

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Urban Rancher Publishing, PO Box 3946,
Estes Park CO 80517-3946 USA
Orders: 970-586-2743, Fax: 970-586-6249
E-mail: urbanrch@frii.com


Copyright (c) 2006 Urban Rancher Publishing, Revised 27 November 2006