I composed this poem when I lived in China during my bike rides home from my friend’s house. This is for them, and for everyone who still gets to ride their bike over to their friend’s house to play.
Riding my bike home
like when I was ten.
Summer’s eve seeps,
saturates my skin.
Summer’s breeze slips,
whips through my hair.
The air stirs
a playful longing.
I grin.
I’m riding my bike home
like when I was ten.
