Riding a bike with my dad…

I’m thinking now of my childhood
Of Dinky toys and a bright shiny trike
I travelled for miles going nowhere
On that beautiful three-wheeled bike.
It even had a boot on the back
Like a bread bin between the wheels
That I used to fill with books and toys
Only opened to best friend’s appeals.
The bike was bright red and I loved it
I raced round on it every day
Until that time when I was just too big
And the bike was taken away.
I missed that old red tricycle
It had been my companion for a while
But the two-wheeled cycle that Dad got
Soon turned my lips up in a smile.
It was a second-hand bike and quite grown-up
Hand-painted the darkest maroon
And I rode it for miles, this time with my dad
But it’s fun-giving days went too soon.
My next bike was blue, and a racer
Derailleur gears numbered ten
I wanted to ride out again with my dad
But he’d cycled his last before then.
My dad rode a bike for the whole of his life
Yet he never reached fifty-three
When I’m on a bike now, cycling along
I think of him riding with me.

©Joe Wilson – Riding a bike with my dad…2015

5 thoughts on “Riding a bike with my dad…

  1. Having lost my parents in the last couple of years, this literally brought tears to my eyes. Nothing as precious as memories. Beautifully written,.Blessings,Debbie

    1. Sorry to hear that Debbie. Hard as it is to lose one’s loved ones, celebrating the panoply of wonderful times you had together does eventually help. Thank you very much for your comments. xx

      1. You are so very welcome. They were heartfelt.I have one about my dad, and one about my Mom in the archives. Never quite get over the feeling of being an orphan when they’re gone.

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