Riding a bike at five.
Dad pushing me along,
On my hot pink bike.
Picking up speed,
Faster, faster.
Wind rushing around me.
I look back...
And you're not pushing any more.
Nervous feelings,
I wobble, but keep my balance.
Legs pumping,
Faster, faster
No more is the sound of
Unbalanced training wheels,
Scraping the pavement.
you and the house are small,
Faraway,
But I'll always come back home.