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Day: September 26, 2020

Treacherous

Foggy, foggy is the day.
Condensing from the air,
Water droplets form and on
The helmet that I wear,
Obscure all visibility,
Distort, deceive and fool
The eyes that guide the bike I ride
And it’s colder than just cool.


Committed to the traffic flow,
No choice but carry on;
Cautiously disburse the drops
As formed they did upon.
Back and forth my glove to wipe
The moisture from the shield
In hopes I’d make it safely to
A port to which I’d yield.


Weaving then between the lines,
I wavered to and fro
Concerned my aptitude to drive
While blind would surely show.
But steadily the port drew near,
I turned into the drive
Whereupon my bike would fall
And I would take a dive.


Stuck between exhausting pipes
That scorch when they are touched
And graveled ground my leg had found
A way to soon be crutched.
I wiggled free, the pain enhanced
Beyond the everyday,
A passing biker rode his bike
To where I just had lay.


Stood my bike back on its wheels,
For that’s where it belongs;
I offered up my thanks although
Embarrassment prolonged.
So now I hobble ‘round about
And grimace as I walk
But thankful there was no one there
To mock me as they’d gawk.
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