lux127
Junior Member
Not all who wander are lost
Posts: 52
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Post by lux127 on Feb 27, 2018 22:30:37 GMT -5
Clumsily unequipped with life, I fell on the grass as the wheels lightly scraped my wobbly knees.
I never wept, instead, I habitually got back up on my feet and managed to lightly fall again by the fields of adventure.
I unfailingly wanted to learn rapidly as the safety of adult hands left my backside.
The moment they did was the moment I fell, the moment I began to learn yet to be taught lessons.
I loved the wheels of my youth, but before I could learn how to ride the wheels without a fumble and a fall, they were stolen.
The next set of wheels were pink and white, they were easily replaceable and captivating all the same.
Gone they went by the time I aged seven.
Eight was a good year, a new set of wheels were placed in my garage along with a scooter to help me regain my balance.
The ironic thing is that I never learned my lesson.
I never did learn how to ride my wheels of an adult bike, who had the time when all the bike would become was stolen.
I was given a three wheel bike, and when that was gone I never learned to ride again.
Instead, I grew up.
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Post by daniel51 on Feb 28, 2018 9:39:55 GMT -5
Wow....sounds like a Carol Ann Duffy poem. Really nice!
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lux127
Junior Member
Not all who wander are lost
Posts: 52
|
Post by lux127 on Feb 28, 2018 13:38:54 GMT -5
Wow....sounds like a Carol Ann Duffy poem. Really nice! Thank you
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