The Dream

The Dream

 

 

Homeless. Footloose. I met him quite by chance.

I taught him to ride a bike,

My bike,

Shiny, new – white, with many gears.

Wobbly, insecure, a big child,

Smiling his toothless grin,

Laughing his achievement.

 

He disappeared with my new bike.

Long after, he returned,

The bike now black and worn.

Ragged seat too high for me

And another seat attached behind.

 

Taxi! He yelled with gummy grin,

And off he flew with passenger clung on.

Then to my surprise –

Chained to a fence,

I saw my bike unscarred.

I woke laughing from the dream.

My cycling lesson, a planted seed,

Had sprouted a taxi driver with two wheels

And a pocket full of change.

 

By Gabrielle Blair