Cycle: Notes of an Online Journal

 
”Cycle”


With the tread a blur
When I pump the pedals ‘round,
And the gentle whir
As I cycle through the town

This dark early morn’
In a fog of muted sound,
Distant thoughts forlorn,
Tiny glimpses lost and found.

Shades of slate surround
All the colors of the past,
Haunt a battleground
Where my fate in Time is cast.

Never mind, I say,
In a caution that I rasp,
Back to where someday
When my journey ends at last.





#NaPoWriMo2019
NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019