Enemy

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My old bike

With broken spokes and pike.


I could not master

Or even go faster.


Rhythm was not mine

I couldn't ride in a straight line.


So my bitter foe

He hurt my shin and my toe.


Training wheels were a need

Advice I never did heed.


Handle bars were let go

Balance did not grow.


Goodbye bike, I walk every mile

With more than a cheerful smile.


I Try!Unde poveștirile trăiesc. Descoperă acum